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creativeashproductions · 3 years

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Proceed With Caution // Evan Buckley

IN WHICH: The reader doesn’t expect to become involved in a hostage situation with her fiance’s older sister, the older sister’s best friend and the best friend’s date from hell. With the addition of a SWAT member, how will the taking of dispatch change?

Warnings: Swearing, blood, threats, angst, guns, hostage/kidnapping

Words: 5.9k

A/N: Recently got into the tv show 9-1-1 and completely fell in love with Buck so here I am writing for him as well. This takes place during the season three episode ‘The Taking of Dispatch 9-1-1’. Reader and Buck are already in an established relationship.

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The apartment was quiet as the sound of your keys clattered in the bowl on the countertop. It was pretty early in the morning, so you had no doubts that Buck would be just waking up. On his days off, he would use the first day to catch up on sleep; based on prior times, he would be up in half an hour.

“Buck?” You called out from the kitchen. You heard a groan from the loft where Buck was in the process of waking up, “I forgot to drop off that book Maddie wants to borrow. When I get back, do you want to get breakfast?”

A grumble you somehow translated to approval was what you received in response. You jogged up the stairs to the loft to grab the book from your bookshelf. Buck’s bare leg stretched out from underneath the comforter on your side. The soft sighs Buck made in his sleepy state tugged at your heart; the sighs grew louder when you bent to kiss his head.

“See you in a bit.” You whispered to the sleepy soft male. He sleepily grinned in response before curling into your pillow.

The sound of your footsteps softened on the steps back to the main level of the apartment. Your keys snagged from the bowl before you gently closed the door behind you. The sun was gorgeous to be awake to see and had Buck not worked a long shift, you’d have adored watching it with him.

Your car pulled out of the parking spot in the Los Angeles Service Center’s direction that Maddie worked at. Your lips quirked as the radio spewed out the station that Christopher listened to in the car. You could even pick up the book in the backseat where he called his spot. The book could be found in Buck’s Jeep as well.

It had maybe three days since you’d seen the young Diaz, and damn did you miss the kid. Christopher has his enigmatic quality that demanded you love him for all that made him simply Christopher. The second you’d met him, you knew he would mean a lot to you.

You hummed in time with the song that was currently Christopher’s absolute favourite. Slowly you went from humming to singing along when the light turned green. A handful of songs came and went on the admittedly long drive due to traffic.

It was about forty minutes after leaving your apartment that you parked next to Maddie’s car in the parking lot. Lucy was sitting at the front office with a grin you matched. The woman buzzed you before she clocked out with her reprieve Jake.

“Hey, Sue!” You grinned at the older redhead. Sue had absolutely no problem seeing you, given that you were welcome in the building.

Sue’s first interaction was when you came to the centre to pick up Maddie when she came to work sick. Maddie had managed to keep it under wraps for an hour before Sue caught on. Ever since, Sue was fond of asking Maddie about her brother and you.

“Maddie’s not in just yet.” Sue spoke with a kind smile, “If you’ll excuse me, I have to meet with one of our sit alongs.”

You nodded towards her while beelining for the woman’s bathroom, hoping to catch Maddie after using it. You’d drank too much water on your run earlier this morning. Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate in the time you’d entered the bathroom, several things happened. Lucy ended her shift, Jake started his shift, and a group of strangers entered the building.

Your hand went to push open the door when through the crack, you saw two men you’d never seen before. Years of your job gave you enough feeling to know that something wasn’t right. That being said, you eased the door closed and attempted to find a hiding spot.

The garbage was too narrow and had no lid. The few seconds you had left, you glanced up. The ceiling hadn’t been renovated in many years. Rectangular sheets could be raised. Thankful of the rock climbing lessons you’d done with Maddie, you managed to crawl into the ceiling just as the two men entered.

“Nobody’s here.” The one-man with his head as pale and shiny as a cue ball. He gave off the most creepy vibe; the shorter Hispanic man wasn’t as violent looking, “Kinda hoping someone tries something. I’ve wanted to try out this.”

The man waved the large gun in his hand with a sick smile that twisted your stomach. That was the moment you’d realized something was very wrong. The second they left, you gently dropped back on the ground. Your first instinct was to send a message to Athena, but there was a fatal flaw. You’d expected to be in and out of the building quickly, so you’d left your phone in the car.

“Fuck.” You swore. One hand roughly running over your forehead as you contemplated figuring out a plan.

The building had many cameras throughout that you knew the blindspots for. The year after high school and during the summers, you’d worked in the building. Despite having worked here when you were younger, it was never during Sue’s shift. Over the years, you’d come to know the blind spots and a few cameras that were decoys. You even remembered Maddie and her friend Josh complaining about three cameras not fixed yet.

“Think.” You breathed, making a pattern of pacing, “They’ll need a lookout. They’ll take out the security guard first. The front doors are out. It’s a team, so they’ll also need eyes on the building. Terry is definitely a hostage.”

Of course, you’d end up in a volatile situation during the first half of your day before your shift started. The only comforting thing about the situation was the holstered gun on your hip and the badge on your belt. Maybe you should backtrack to why you had a gun and badge; you were an LAPD member, specifically SWAT.

“The changeroom.” You breathed, recalling it was down the hall with no camera. All you needed to do was pretend to be a dispatcher. The changeroom, now mostly a file room, had a few extra maroon and blue uniform shirts.

You timed it. The man holding Sue’s tablet was in the process of talking with his cohort, so you dashed to the room. You took no time in changing into a loose maroon shirt with your thick sweater overtop to hide the gun in the small of your back.

Your holster, badge and personal shirt tucked in the bottom of a box for safekeeping. As soon as you saw your entry, you sat with the group of hostages a hall over. A few looked surprised but let it go when you raised one finger to your lips.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Maddie hissed from the other side of a startled Josh. Both of them were surprised at seeing you here, “Oh my god. Buck is going to kill me.”

“I was dropping off your book before I get breakfast with Buck, but it appears my small bladder saved my life.” You snarked with your eyes scanning the room, “What’s going on?”

“That is my date from hell, Greg.” Josh inconspicuously pointed towards the man, clearly giving orders. The anger flared inside you, “You need to get out.”

“Josh, no offence, but I’m an officer with the LAPD. I work with SWAT. I’m your best bet of making it out alive.” You informed the dispatch duo, who went still as Cue Ball patrolled the hallway with a sadistic glint in his eyes.

“They took control of the building for a reason we don’t know about. We’re still working but under strict monitoring. They said it will be an hour, but we’ve seen their faces.”

“No witnesses.” You finished for Maddie with a deep sigh, “Unfortunately I left my phone in the car. Did they take yours-”

“They took Linda’s EpiPen. Of course, we don’t have phones.” Maddie sighed, leaning back to rest her head against the wall. Not even having a SWAT member by her side was comforting; your badge put a more significant target on you.

“We have to warn someone.” Josh mumbled to both Maddie and you, “You’re on shift Y/N?”

“Not for a few hours. I was supposed to drop off the book and get breakfast with Buck before my shift. This was supposed to be five minutes tops, so I left my phone in my car.”

“I already did.” Maddie spoke with a sad look on her face that overtook the fear, “I just hope he gets the message.”

Your hand reached out to squeeze the woman you’d had a hand in raising Buck more than their parents. Maddie had become family when you first started dating Buck. The in-law part of her familial relationship to you never crossed your minds; you were simply sisters to each other.

“Who?”

“Chim. I told him I loved him.” Maddie finished with a teary gaze. It made you sick seeing that look again after Doug.

You remembered seeing that haunted look when she stumbled out of the thicker woods covered in blood. You’d stayed by Athena’s side when Buck clutched her so tight and sobbed with her. It had been before you’d become serious with the man, but it was that frightening day that Buck fell for you. You’d just finished a taxing shift with your team when you heard about Maddie was missing, and Chim was in the hospital. You’d ignored the exhaustion to search high and low through your work contacts before narrowing the search area.

“Good thing Chimney obsesses over the little things.” You spoke, slouching down against the wall, “We’ll get throu-”

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Maddie warned you with her brows furrowed together, and you saw what she was doing. Despite your years of experience and the gun you had, she pushed her fear down behind the concern that a big sister shows her young siblings.

“I won’t.”

At 8am, Buck was just entering the apartment building from grabbing the mail addressed to both you and him when Chim had called.

“Yup, go for Buck.” Buck spoke, opening the door to the apartment he’d only temporarily left. His morning had been late after his long shift the night before. The most productive thing was dressing for his breakfast date with you and grabbing the mail.

“How come 9-1-1 doesn’t respond when I call?” Chimney questioned the younger, now confused male.

“Uh, is that some kind of riddle? Like who watches the watchmen?” Buck asked, closing the door behind him. His eyes scanned around for any indication you’d returned home, but the bowl was vacant of your keys.

“Neither of those things are riddles. Okay, I just tried calling 9-1-1, and I got the high call volume message. Did I miss an earthquake or something?”

“Nope, pretty chill morning.” Buck responded as he closed the fridge door with a bottle of water in hand. The entire conversation wasn’t concerning to him, given that Chimney was often like this.

“Where’s Y/N? She’s the police she’ll know-”

“She’s not home right now. Wait, why are you calling 9-1-1? Is everything okay?” Buck slowly asked with his brows coming together. The sigh of frustration from Chimney was answer enough.

“Your sister said that she loved me.”

“Yeah. Wasn’t that uh, the whole point in that big date you had last night?” Buck inquired on his way to the table. He had a feeling this was going to be a long conversation that would hopefully pass the time until you got home.

“You declare your love, and she declares hers? That’s how it went with Y/N and me.”

“Yeah, I know, okay, but she didn’t, all right? At least not last night. Look, she made this big deal saying that she couldn’t say those words, and then this morning, she blurts them out and hangs up on me.” Chimney speaks, pacing in his own apartment. The side by the side of Chimney and Buck’s separate apartments told different tales of their states.

“It’s still not quite sounding like an emergency.”

“’Cause I sound insane.” Chimney spoke, staring up at the ceiling with a battle in his mind. He wants Buck to talk him out of this, but he also wants Buck to agree with him, “She’s at the call centre. What could happen there? You know what, forget it, I’ll try Y/N again.”

“Again?” Buck questioned just as his co-worker ended the call. Buck tugged his phone away from his ear to stare at it confused.

You always answered the phone if you weren’t working at the moment, but given you still had hours, he found it unsettling. After seeing the news report with the ladder truck on top of him, calls weren’t ignored between you two. That feeling of concern grew when you didn’t answer his call either. Nor the second one.

“Nah, she’s probably talking with Maddie.” Buck spoke, but that second-guessing feeling didn’t dissipate.

In the call centre, you’d been marched to one of the stations with a deep hope that you’d remember everything. It had been years by then since you’d worked as a dispatcher. It didn’t help with the gunmen patrolling the room.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” You calmly questioned the caller.

“Hi, my cat is up the tree by my house. Could you send someone?”

“Can I get your name?” You went through the motions of getting her name and address before you informed the woman, “Okay, the LAFD and LAPD no longer respond to calls of cats in trees. The cat will make its way down on its own. If the tree is in your backyard, I’d use the time to garden or read a book on this beautiful day.”

“Oh, thank you. I’m sorry for taking up your time.”

“It’s no problem. Having a wonderful day Susan.”

In no time at all, you’d been rotated into the board room away from Josh and Maddie. It gave you time to inspect everyone you hadn’t made contact with yet. No one appeared harmed other than in distress with the situation.

“Downtown. They don’t want anyone downtown.” Linda whispered as Maddie was guided onto the floor by the elbow. You’d only gathered her name from her near-silent introduction to you when the hired guns had been far from your area.

“Let’s go.” Greg snapped, roughly pushing you towards the conference room. Something deep in your gut already predicted that someone was going to be stupid.

It was your sharp eyesight catching the minuscule agitation in Greg’s interactions with the Cue Ball guy. The slight tightening of his grip on the gun, the tension in the room growing stifling. And everyone knows that when emotions run high stupid things happen.

“Why do they keep moving us around like this?” The man beside Maddie questioned. He was definitely the most shaken of the group. He was basically shaking like a chihuahua.

“To disorient us.” Maddie spoke, staring at the group monitoring the dispatchers currently in play. Her eyes refused to leave them.

“So, we can’t make a plan.” You finished for your sister-in-law. Objectively out of everyone, Maddie, Sue and you were the most collected individuals for various reasons.

Maddie had lived in a volatile house with a man that could be unpredictable if a situation called for it in his mind. Sue had been working in the centre for years to navigate the emergency while you walked into dangerous situations.

“Jamal.” The shaking man spoke, holding his hand out towards you, “Are you new?”

“No.” You spoke as you shook his hand, “I’m Y/N. Maddie’s sister-in-law. I’m filling in as a favour for Sue.”

The lie slipped off your lips a little too quickly. You decided to come to this hostage situation as if you were undercover. It meant having to ignore that Maddie was in the situation with you.

“Worst day for a favour.” Jamal snorted with his eyes pinned on one of the armed men holding all your lives in their hands. You’d have spoken, but Jamal checked out mentally from the conversation waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The shoe dropped when the IT Specialist announced numbly, “Jake’s dead. They shot him.”

It didn’t matter how long you’d been working for the LAPD, any death, whether it was a civilian or a criminal, it was still was startling. Jake, the security guard that alternated shifts with Lucy, wasn’t someone you spoke with. He was on shift when you weren’t here or just missed the shift change.

“We need to get a message out.” Jamal spoke, glancing at the only people in the right state of mind, and those were Maddie, Josh and you. Terry had seen the violence these men had no issues with.

“I did.” Josh breathed, thinking of the arguably cute security guard he sometimes liked to stare at, “A woman called about onions in an omelette. I dispatched an officer.”

“To the restaurant?” Maddie inquired with her pinkie connected with yours for comfort. Both of you would prefer your SO’s hand instead.

“Not exactly.” Josh replied, staring at his best friend with a glimpse of hope in his brown eyes.

Hope may be the only way you could get out of this without hurting anyone in your admittedly surface level plan.

“Buck will think something is up.” You added

Buck had begun pacing the kitchen of the apartment with Chim adamantly telling his friend his plan to go to the centre. Buck had joined Chimney in the concerned department when you had failed to return to the apartment, return calls and to make matters worse, so was Maddie. His texts had gone unanswered as well, not even having the read receipt on.

“She’s not picking up either. I tried Y/N and Josh, but neither replied. When I tried Maddie and Josh, it went straight to voicemail.”

“Now, I’m definitely going.” Chimney announced, shoving his wallet into his pocket just as someone began knocking on his door.

“What if something is wrong? I know Y/N is a member of SWAT but radio silence? No text to let me know she was called in early?” Buck thought aloud with his finger dragging along his thigh, “Maybe we should call the police.”

“I...think someone already did.” Chimney informed Buck as he stared at the sudden appearance of Sergeant Athena Grant at his door.

“What? What do you mean?” Buck hastily questioned, leaning against the kitchen island. He could just faintly hear Athena speaking on Chimney’s end of the phone, “Chimney? What’s going on?”

“Athena was sent to my apartment. Hang on, Buck, I’m just gonna tell Athena what’s going on.”

Buck stepped away from the island to settle on the stairs to the loft, impatiently waiting for Chimney to finish speaking. That fear of losing pieces of his life expanded deep in his gut, just like the times Maddie left in his childhood. That fear of being left behind.

“What’s she’s saying now?”

“She’s making her case.” Chim whispered as he continued to eavesdrop on Athena’s call with her higher-ups, “Now she’s folding like a cheap suit.”

“All right, let me talk to Athena.” Buck demanded antsy to figure out the situation that clearly had something wrong. That fear he’d thought of early flared catching the tail end of Athena’s conversation, “No! No, no. We can’t just send in SWAT. If there is someone inside the call centre doing something, they’ll know we’re onto them.”

Unfortunately, Buck was correct in this thought process, all thanks to living with a SWAT member. He knew these things after the years he’d been with you.

“Maddie? I think I can sneak up to Terry’s computer. Maybe get eyes on the place-”

“No!” Terry nearly shouted, stiffening when Cue Ball hesitated in the doorway at his sudden shouts. You all held your breath for his reaction, but thankfully he was called away by one of the men, “They have-”

“Terry, I need you to calm down. I’m familiar with these types of situations. I’m SWAT. I need to get on top of this. Don’t be a hero.”

Maddie’s head began to shake when your arm was roughly grabbed by Greg, “Your turn.”

You were separated from Josh and Maddie, but instead of being pushed into one of the dispatcher seats, you were pulled to the original hallway.

“I don’t like how friendly you are with them.” Greg spat, shoving you to rest against the wall, “Don’t move.”

You catch the eyes of Maddie with an apologetic expression before you used the pacing routine to sneak away. You didn’t release your breath until you were attaching your holder to your hip in the change room. By now, your team would be aware that something was wrong, Hondo would be hell-bent on finding you.

Until you had help, you were on your own.

You used each blindspot of the cameras in the halls to the stairwell, and you used a broom to adjust the cameras. The cameras not kept you from view but not appearing suspicious. Once at the floor where Terry was practically always at you softly closed the door.

You’d only started to sit down when you heard the ding of the elevator, “Shit.”

You slipped into the closest containing extra parts if anything broke. Through the crack, you saw Terry being held at gunpoint. The gunman that had been holding the tablet on the floor, Ellis as you’d heard.

“You’re telling me every cop in the city has just disappeared?” Ellis demanded as Terry, and he disappeared around one of the corners. The tapping of a screen indicating Ellis was searching for something with Terry’s involuntary help.

“I’m telling you, I don’t know!” Terry snapped back, creating even more tension in the room, but Ellis didn’t move to grab his gun.

Ellis appeared to the only one reluctant to discharge your weapon, unlike Cue Ball, who just happened to join the party.

“Figure it out!” Ellis spat, turning on his heel at the sound of approaching footsteps. You could see him roll his eyes at his team member walking into the room.

“What’s going on here?” Cue ball questioned the duo in different kinds of distress, and you swore Cue Ball enjoyed the intimidation from his teammate and the IT specialist.

“That police car’s not the only one that’s gone dark.” Ellis nervously spoke, stiffening for the volatile reaction that one could expect from Foster.

“You think they know we’re here?”

“Foster, it could be a system glitch.” Ellis offered keeping one eye on Cue Ball while monitoring Terry’s work as well.

Cue Ball spoke a sentence that sent chills up your spine, “Time to cut our losses.”

As Foster and Ellis began going over their personal plans made out of Greg’s knowledge, you noticed Terry glance over. His eyes widened slightly before quickly looking away when you raised a finger across your lips.

“We can go down the back stairs. I have a car waiting around the corner, we split the art up between the five of us, and we go our separate ways.” Foster spoke, revealing his plan to double-cross Greg, which in all honesty made sense. Greg was ill-fitting to be in charge of their operation, unable to control his lackeys.

“I like that part of the deal.” Ellis breathed, skirting around the trigger happy criminal only to halt in his steps, “Wait, you’ve got a car parked down the street? You were always gonna double-cross Greg.”

“You weren’t?”

“If we’re gonna do this, you can’t just sell famous works of art on eBay.”

“You can’t sell them from prison either.”

At that moment, something almost shifted in the area, something that made you pull your gun from your holster. Your body telling you something was about to happen. It happened in a split second. Foster fled the room leaving only Ellis just outside. With Terry frantically shaking his head, you tiptoed to the unsuspecting criminal.

“LAPD!” You shouted, pointing your gun towards the shocked man, “Put the gun down and put your hands up.”

“Aren’t you a dispatcher?” Ellis questioned, blinking in surprise.

“Aren’t you supposed to be intelligent? Next time check the schedule I haven’t worked here in years.” You spat, keeping your gun pointed on him, “Do I say-”

The sound of two guns going off made Terry flinch and scream as he instinctively dropped to the ground. IT was supposed to be safe, but Terry had now heard three gunshots in under two hours. He really didn’t want to see the outcome of the shots.

A moan coaxed Terry to peek out through the privacy glass. Ellis was on the ground while you kept your gun on him. He didn’t see anything else when the power went out. He didn’t see you drop to your knees, but he heard you.

“Terry...get down. Lay on your stomach with your hands insight, and don’t move.” You informed the terrified IT just as the floor was swarmed.

“Put the gun down!” The sound of Tan’s voice was welcoming as you slowly placed the gun on the ground. “25-David I have Y/L/N. The suspect is down, need medical.”

You got back to your feet when Tan nodded his head, “Thank god. There’s a possible body in the IT room along with the It Specialist Terry.”

“You got your badge on you?” Tan questioned as he cuffed the moaning Ellis up, “Street can you escort her down?”

Street nodded from his position, watching Tan’s back before guiding you to the stairs with hawk eyes. Even off duty, you kept your head on a swivel.

“You caused quite the commotion.” Street spoke halfway down the stairs when you barely mumbled. He caught you as you went down like a sack of potatoes, “Y/N!”

“Adrenaline is crashing.” You moaned, looking at your shoulder where the maroon had grown darker, “I think he shot me.”

“26-David I’m in the stairway. Prepare a medic.” Street spoke into his radio before he strapped the gun away and swept you into his arms, “Think you can have my back?”

“When don’t I?” You wheezed, with the sweat starting to bead on your forehead. As you crashed from adrenaline, you barely noticed being placed on the ground at the main entrance.

A paramedic cutting your borrowed shirt to reveal the bullet hole in your shoulder courtesy of Ellis, the only member who’d thought wouldn’t shoot his gun. You could vaguely hear Maddie calling out your name as you were loaded onto a gurney.

“M-Maddie?” You spoke, tilting your head to see Chris holding Maddie back from, “Chris! That’s my sister in law.”

Chris only let Maddie go when Hondo gave the all-clear, and you were so thankful when Maddie’s hand encased yours.

“Don’t close your eyes.” Maddie pleaded sick with the amount of blood on your skin and soaking through the gauze, “Who’s gonna help me put up with my little brother?”

“Buck.” You breathed sluggishly, blinking as the artificial lights changed to natural with the gun shining through the glass front doors.

“You didn’t let me close mine in that ambulance, so I need you to do the same. Don’t close them. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” Maddie cried as an officer pulled her aside as you were stopped. You wouldn’t remember it, but Maddie had to watch as you coded right in front of her.

Maddie had to watch them perform CPR on you and fight for a pulse. She had to think of how’d she’d tell her little brother she’d killed his fiance. The counting of the paramedics sounded as if underwater, and as they did, the world went quiet. Her mind checked out as the trauma settled in.

Maddie stumbled out of the building into a zoo of officers, medics, and news reporters almost robotically. She barely felt Chimney hug her, but she wrapped her arms around him and sobbed.

“It’s all my fault.” Maddie gasped, collapsing against him, “If I had-”

“Maddie?”

Chimney felt Maddie stiffen at the sound of Buck’s voice amidst the multiple voices milling around. Maddie raised her gaze to meet Buck’s blue eyes dripping in relief and question.

“Buck.”

“Maddie, where’s Y/N? Her car…” Buck trailed off, catching the utter heartbreak in his big sister’s eyes. A look he’d come to know in his line of work as a firefighter. The utter devastation that came with watching someone you love die, “No. No.”

“I got a pulse!” Came from the nearest ambulance, and Buck skirted around his sister and Chimney, “Ready to transport!”

Your eyes slowly blinked at the white ceiling of the ambulance with pain in your midsection courtesy of chest compressions. Breathing came painful, and the bullet wound throbbed, but it all faded when you saw blue eyes above you.

“Buck.” You sobbed, more like groaned, as he was urged to sit on the bench holding your hand, “Maddie?”

“She’s okay. Chim’s got her. Can you keep your eyes on me? I need to see those big beautiful e/c eyes.” Buck soothed, bringing your hand to his lips, “Did I ever tell you my favourite colour?”

Despite Buck’s best attempts, you continued fading in and out of consciousness but continued to be stable. He spoke about the funny video Eddie had shown him of Christopher at the end of their shift last night. He talked about everything and anything under the sun during the short ride to the hospital.

The last thing you saw was Buck being held back as the paramedics pushed the gurney into the ER. Everything turned black.

The beeping was the first thing you heard before your eyes fluttered open to a stark white room and that unmistakable hospital scent. You noticed the second thing as Buck holding your hand in both of his with his forehead pressed against them.

“Buck?” You moaned to the one person you had wished to see. The man whose eyes were bloodshot from crying, “What’s wrong?”

“Your heart stopped beating twice. I thought I was gonna lose you.” Buck cried with his lips pressed against your hand, “I was so worried.”

“Hey. I’m fine. I’m here.” You cooed, tugging one hand away to run through his messy hair with a soft smile. His blue eyes brighten at the familiar feeling of your digits in his hair, “I’m not going anywhere. This isn’t here for decoration.”

His eyes found the ring he’d gently placed back on your finger from when the nurses had removed it. It only left your finger when you were on duty, in which it was slung on a necklace hidden under your uniform.

“Better not be.”

“Does the hospital have a chapel?” You questioned out of the blue leading to Buck snorting as you giggled, “I’m serious. When I was bleeding in that building, all I could think about was you. If Maddie is anything like you, she’s waiting in the waiting room with Chimney.”

“You aren’t wrong. All the chairs are taken. Our family was waiting for you to wake up.” Buck breathed, leaning closer to press a sweet kiss to your lips, “Are you sure?”

“About marrying you?” You softly questioned the man who couldn’t help but believe this was a dream. How he’d somehow got the girl of his dreams to agree to marry his ass, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. All I want to share is your last name for the rest of my life. You are it for me, Evan Buckley. All the flaws you see are beautiful to me.”

“Only you would want to get married after being shot mere hours ago.” Buck chuckled with a sigh pulled from his pink lips, “I’ll get the doctor for you and find out if we can be married here.”

While you were checked out, Buck left the room to go back to the waiting room where the 118 and your co-workers waited. Everyone perked up at his appearance, Christopher asleep on Eddie’s lap.

“Is she okay?” Bobby questioned as the tension in the room grew more and more. It shattered into relief when Buck grinned.

“She’s sore as expected. She’s gonna catch some sleep, but she’d like to see Maddie.” Buck replied, pinning his gaze on his big sister with her curled into Chimney’s body. Her cheeks flooded with tears of absolute relief, “C’mon.”

The waiting room started emptying with Buck’s promise to keep everyone updated, but before Bobby could step away, Buck asked for him.

“Do you need a few days off?” Bobby questioned just as Buck came closer to the seasoned firefighter.

“No. But could you spare an hour?” The expression on Buck’s face was enough for Bobby not to ask any further questions. He simply followed Buck back towards your hospital room, where Maddie and Chim waited.

“What’s going on?” Bobby inquired, with the addition of the hospital assigned Priest holding the standard bible. Chimney could only shrug in response to whatever was going on.

“I know there have been times we haven’t seen eye to eye, but Bobby, you’re like a father to me. You gave me chance after chance when anyone else would have given up. You guided me on how to be a man. Y/N and I would like it if you’d be here for this.”

“Wait, are you getting married? What about the wedding?” Maddie spluttered, flicking her gaze between her brother and you. Her question surprised her boyfriend and Bobby.

“We’ll still have it. But I want to marry her without the pressure of our parents. Just a private ceremony with some of the people that mean the most to us.” Buck answered for the two of you, “Would you stay?”

“Of course.” Maddie softly spoke with a slideshow of memories playing in her mind of watching Buck grow up.

Watching Evan go through all kinds of injuries, all in the name of attention but never getting it the way he deserved it. She remembered giving him advice for asking out Donna and holding him when he was rejected. The little toddler with the impish grin somehow turned into an idiot in the hospital.

Maddie saw the man her little brother had turned into with the help of the 118 and you.

Buck’s fingers made quick work of buttoning his short-sleeve uniform with the sudden appearance of his friend.

“That’s new.” Eddie spoke from his opened locker holding his uniform and a picture of his family on the door. It was a picture of Christopher, Buck, you and Eddie from the zoo a couple months back.

Buck looked over at his best friend, “Hm?”

“The ring.” Eddie snorted dramatically, looking at the ring that had been living on his finger since he married you five days ago, “Did my invite get lost in the mail?”

“Nah, we just got married in the hospital. We’re still planning the wedding to appease both sides of our family. And I promised Christopher he could be in the wedding. With Y/N on medical leave, the planning will be faster. She’s going stir crazy after five days.” Buck finished tucking in the shirt into his work-issued pants. Lastly, he slid his ring onto the metal chain he had bought recently.

Like you did, he would wear it around his neck when working for safety reasons.

“I’m happy for you, man.” Eddie told his friend just as the bell rang, “You’ll have to tell me how you’re liking the married life.”

“But first, we have a job to do.” Buck supplied all the while jogging to suit up in his turnout gear with Hen and Chimney.

#evan buckley imagines #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley x fem!reader #evan buckley oneshot #911 imagines #911 oneshots #oliver stark #evan buck buckley #evan buckley x y/n #evan buckley x you #caitsy and ash productions

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gemkidsau · 3 years

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Season Three

I made some posts on Tapas about this but I guess some people missed them, so the confused people in that crew, here is a screenshot of an explanation:

The original plan was to draw the entirety of season two before scheduling it all to post. But a handful of episodes in I got caught up in something else and by the time I had time to work on it again, I just couldn't. I tried and tried but I really just could not get back into it.

So continuing in my promise, here is season three:

Super watermelon island

Garnet sees Malachite surfacing on Mask Island so they go there and ambush her. Peridot stays behind to work on the drill and Rose volunteers to supervise her. Alexandrite defeats Malachite. Jasper is lost in the ocean again and Lapis is brought home, passed out.

Gem drill

Same plot but replace Steven with Rose.

Same old world

Lapis wakes up and Amethyst helps her process what she went through and finds a new home for her (similar plot but Amethyst has a different approach cause of her personality). She chooses the barn.

Barn mates

Peridot insists the barn belongs to her because she’s already been using it. Lapis insists it was promised to her even though Amethyst never actually said that and doesn’t own the barn in the first place. Amethyst decides this is going to be hilarious and makes popcorn. She soon realizes she’s too close to it for it to be funny so goes to solve the problem, but it’s harder than she anticipated. It generally follows the same plot though. The red eye shows up at the end and lapis flicks it.

Hit the diamond

Yeah this one’s the same.

Steven floats

Rose learns she can float.

Mr greg

Steven & Connie’s backstory (Never fleshed this out)

Too short to ride

TBH the same but replace Steven with Rose.

The new lars

Rose wakes up in the middle of the night in Pearl’s body. Terrified, she shakes herself awake, which triggers the switch back. Pearl wakes up groggy and asks Rose why she’s awake. She says she had a bad dream and they go back to sleep.

Beach city drift

The cool kids invited Lars to a party and he’s bragging about it. When Pearl and Amethyst show interest, Lars says little kids aren’t allowed. They fuse and try to keep Opal stable so they can attend the party.

Monster reunion

Rose figures out that she does, in fact, have healing powers. She’s sure it’s a Diamond thing, but thankful as heck it’s also a Rose Quartz thing. Rose says she should try and heal one of the monsters and Pearl says she should do corrupted Rose Quartz. Once CRQ is half healed, it’s the same plot switching Steven for Pearl. We get to learn about the Crystal Gems’ demise. They were fighting at the beach and where Beach City would eventually be built. A Quartz fusion chucked the warp pad to prevent further backup from arriving. Rose notices a Nephrite receiving orders to retreat and looks up to see the diamond attack. The warp pad lands on the Nephrite. Rose doesn’t have a means to protect her friends(sword instead of shield), so they all succumb to the attack. (exit flashback) Rose runs to the temple, but can’t get in. Pearl lets her in. Pink Rose is in there like “wat happen why.” (Maybe CRQ finds something in the chest? IDK where to go from here.)

Alone at sea

Peridot is sad because Lapis is sad and she can’t figure out how to make not sad so she asks Garnet for help. Garnet takes Lapis into the ocean and does her best to show her more of the beauty of Earth. Lapis is finally starting to cheer up when Jasper sneaks up on them and begs on her knees to become Malachite again. Lapis tells her no and makes her leave. Garnet and Lapis go home wary.

Greg the babysitter

Sour Cream is excited because his baby brother is being born today. The gems are like what is a baby. We learn that gems don’t start out quite that small. They theorize that since humans only incubate for 9 months, they don’t develop as far. Gems incubate for years. They come out as 5-year-olds ish. Then Connie wonders if gems were to incubate for a very long time, would they form as adults? The gems laugh at such an idea. :^)

Gem hunt

Connie is getting very good at being close to danger even though she can’t fight or anything, so when she hears the gems are going to the frozen North, she insists on tagging along to supervise. The gems think that’s stupid but they aren’t gonna say no to Mom. Connie and Garnet get separated from Pearl, Amethyst, and Rose. While separated, Connie actually helps Garnet take out one of the beasts. Pearl, Amethyst, and Rose encounter Jasper, who poofs their beast and walks off menacingly as Connie and Garnet find them. (Rose summons her shield for the first time when trying to protect her teammates)

Crack the whip

Amethyst loses a sparring match to Pearl for the first time and is super self conscious about it.

Steven vs amethyst

Amethyst internalizes the problem instead of confronting Pearl.

Bismuth (This is out of order. Should happen before Monster Reunion)

Rose asks why she doesn’t have a room in the temple yet and the gems are like yeah that’s chill we have another spot go for it. She makes her room and to her surprise there’s already stuff in it. The other gems are like yeah there were a few things in our rooms too. We think they’re left over from the previous owners. Stuff like swords and relics. But Rose has some peculiar items in her room. There’s a chest, a sword, a flag, and a bubble. Rose likes the sword and wants to use it in battle.

Beta

Amethyst still feels like shit so Rose takes her to Peridot and Peridot takes them to the beta kindergarten. Same plot.

Earthlings

We find out that even though Jasper was originally made for Yellow, since she was young when PD emerged she was actually training to be given to Pink.

Back to the moon

Same plot mostly. The other gems hear for the first time (from the rubies) that Pink Diamond was shattered on Earth. ‘Who would do such a thing?’ It was a Rose Quartz. All eyes on Rose. Not having planned for this, she panics and runs downstairs. Pearl says she’ll talk to her since she’s closest to her and asks the other to continue helping the rubies without her.

Bubbled

Pearl talks to Rose about what they’re going to tell the others. They decide Rose was bubbled and when Pink returned to Earth in search of her Pearl, she released Rose. Rose asked who she was and she told her she’s a Diamond. Rose is a Crystal Gem so she identified her as a threat and took the opportunity to strike. Soon the others return but their cover (pretending to be homeworld gems for the rubies) is blown at the last second. Rose opens the airlock to blow them into space and one of them grabs her, trying to pull her with them, but she escapes the ruby’s grasp safely.

#gem kids au #suau #steven universe

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lambourngb · 4 years

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he’s got a smart mouth but a good heart - Michael Guerin

It’s Day 2, celebrating characters, and much to my own surprise, at the end of season 2, Michael Guerin decided to move into my brain and take up residence. Obviously I still love Alex Manes (He lives first and foremost in my brain since 1x08), but there was something about how Michael buried his own pain about his mother to help everyone in season two that rang pretty true to my own life right now. I didn’t always like what he was doing in season 2 but I understood it.

Anyway, when I find a story that celebrates how complicated he is, I cheer and rejoice- so here’s a few of the stories that I have gone back to again and again.

Truck stop knives and other assessors of childhood @angsty-aliens (13,200) I can’t lie, I love a good trope story, and I especially love a good sci-fi trope story, so this story hits all of my buttons. It takes our two science nerds, Liz and Michael, mucking around, and accidentally creating a version of Michael- but not just any version, but the child who hitchhiked to Fosters ranch, completely over humans and desperate to find his family. The kid who was feral from neglect and abuse... he was the cutest thing and the most mortifying thing that ever happened to Michael to be displayed and shown. This story takes the de-aged trope and turns it on its head, and oh yeah, there’s a sweet backdrop to Michael and Alex getting together.

Implicit Memories of You by @ninswhimsy (3464) - So this is an amnesia story canon-divergent story set after 2x11 basically, where they use the mind erasing drug on Michael. I know, I’m reccing this about Michael characterization, but it’s so solidly him after all the memories are stripped away and he’s acting on instincts, locked in a room to torture Alex with before death. There’s so much going on in so few words, something that Nin is a master at, especially the ephemeral remembrances of his mother that Michael has- oof right in the feels.

Maybe this time (he’ll stay) by @hannah-writes (7700) This is a sequel to one of my favorite stories I recced last year, dealing in alternative timelines where in one world, Michael is lost and alone and has pushed Alex away, and in another world where Alex came home from Iraq in a flagged draped coffin. It answers the question, what about Mikey? Where’s his happy ending? The confirmation of the multiverse means there’s an Alex out there who needs him- and through trial and error, Michael finds him. The world building in both stories is top notch, because for every action, there’s a reaction and reason shaping Michael.

Constant as the northern star by celzmccelz (53,000) - don’t know the tumblr here - This is an Mpreg, and it starts solidly after 1x13 and goes AU from there. But what if in the 100 mile drive home from Caulfield, Michael and Alex share a grief-induced moment of insanity where they fall back into their oldest language- sex for comfort, and then Michael does everything he does in the finale, including turning toward Maria, what if there was a souvenir? Despite the trope of mpreg, this is just how I see Michael, deeply in love with Alex but unable to trust that Alex feels the same depth in return. The friendships in here are also top-notch, from Kyle being a baby-doctor, to Isobel having her own Max-related spiral unable to let go of her brother only to refocus on Michael, to Liz fucking off with Rosa for the first half of the story because she’s caught up in her own grief (which turned out to be canon!). And there’s a whole plot here! With Jesse Manes being the worst.

Leave the light on by @sabrinachill (36,900) - Confession time- I love fake dating as a trope, I know, shocked right? But I especially love it with RNM because Malex are exes by 1x03. Mattie nailed the dynamic of pining and the assumption of unrequited love so well in this story. Although the POV switches here a bit between chapters, (and Alex is fabulous) what I really really loved was how she wrote Michael, in love but convinced that he’s messed up too much for Alex. Aware of his faults but not in a sullen way, but an acknowledgment that he was in a bad place and Alex hasn’t always been the best remedy him in the past. It was a very mature take on the “give me another chance” trope in Malex reunion stories, where both sides had a share of blame. The plot was suspenseful and tight (how do people do that???) with a climax that honestly shocked me! I really enjoyed rereading it while I prepped my rec-sets, and I won’t be surprised if this story isn’t mentioned by everyone doing ‘Creators Week’. It’s worthy of all the love.

Temporary wounds by @prouvaireafterdark (7800) - How many times can I rec this story? Hopefully you’re not bored by my adoration of this Lynne. So even though it’s set post-season 1 with the assumption that Michael/Maria will fizzle out while Alex/Forrest date- it’s actually perfectly set for season 3 (an author who is psychic??). As a rule, I hate jealousy as a trope, but this story has the only type of jealousy I want to see on screen- where Michael wonders what was missing inside of him that Alex didn’t want to be public during their long affair (even with the acknowledgment that Alex was too scared before)- like that type of sad pining is my catnip!

The first who ever did by nostalijinks (33,000) post season 1, but really it also stands pretty well after season 2. There was an interview during season 1 I think that talked about how all Michael really wanted was to be a hero to Alex (the way he stepped in front of Jesse as a kid) but he thinks he failed at it since Alex enlisted. That failure soured him in ways but he never stops trying, for Alex. This is a really well done 5 times plus 1 story, with an overreaching arc of reconciliation between Alex and Michael, starting as teenagers, then as adults while Michael is with Maria, then as friends, real friends, trying to support Alex as Alex dates. The whole emotional journey of maturity that Michael takes here is so well done, where there’s no real villains in the friend group. I just love it. I wish the author had written 100 more like this one, but as a standalone work it’s epic.

The person that you’d take a bullet for is behind the trigger by @iwontbeyourmedicine (25,000) Ly has a very large body of work, that you could spend days paging through on AO3 or tumblr, but this one hits two of my kinks hard- the amnesia story line and true love conquers all. So three fandoms ago I was huge into Steve/Bucky, that iconic moment in Cap 2 where Bucky breaks through the brainwashing has never left me. This story takes my love for that moment, and makes it Malex. Alex gets programmed by his family and set loose on his friends, on the aliens and it’s a shitshow bloodbath since he’s really fucking good at kicking ass. Michael is caught between keeping everyone safe and trying not to hurt Alex, and the tension is just top-notch. I love how it’s not an immediate fix either, the way they circle each other in the aftermath, wanting to come home, but home would be a totally new step for both of them. Just chef’s kiss good at joining action, angst, and romance together.

Into the palm of your hand by @haloud (5900) hal is a treasured friend, so I am admitting some bias here, but we both enjoy talking about how wonderful and sad Michael is and how desperately we enjoy poking at that softness and then wrapping him up with love again... so this story was written pre-shamegate (and if you know what that means, I’m sorry) but it matches my head canon of what the history of hiding does to someone. The internalization of believing maybe there’s a reason behind the hiding that has nothing to do with homophobic townies. Alex has an ex boyfriend come to town, and he doesn’t tell Michael. And omg the journey hal takes us on with Michael’s spiral and Brave Little Toaster act was so wonderful and painful and real. The communication between these two was top notch as they worked through a road bump from the past, and let’s face it, once we get our malex back, these things are going to happen, and it will either tear them apart or bring them closer together- I prefer to believe it will be closer together.

There is beauty in a failure by @jule1122 (2400) There’s been a few Greg and Michael stories to pop up on my radar after 2x10, and this one was one of my favorites. This is a Greg who pulls no punches in exposing his brother’s past to Michael, but also gives Michael the space to work through what he wants. It’s an AU from 2x12, that allowed Michael to break up with Maria for basically the same reasons that Maria used on him in 2x13. The way Michael is able to what he wants and communicate it Alex in the end- so good! We can only hope to see something similar in season 3.

I don’t know what to think (but I think of supernovas) by @queersirius (3900) This story is a delight from start to finish- I mean frustrated cursing turns the console on into a hologram who then takes the most pleasing form to Michael’s eyes? SIGN ME UP for those shenanigans. I fucking loved how Isobel saw it first too. And then the comedy of Alex discovering it? And what happens afterwards? Oh it’s so delicious. Now of course, full disclosure, this light-hearted romp through the feels also inspired me to think up a much much sadder version of Michael building an AI for companionship considering how isolated he ended up being at the end of Season 2 and we all know Michael needs friends, badly.

Innuendo by the Roswell anon (6000) written for @bisexualalienblast the roswell anon is my favorite treasure in this fandom, I could pretty much list all of their stories as examples of some very fine Michael Guerin characterization. This one was one of my favorite post-season 1 fix-it fics though, because it has some of the most real 28-30 year old guy dialogue I’ve come across- from the crude jokes, to the sharply self-deprecating observations- this is Alex and Michael stripped down, all edges but what’s left is fatigue and love. The resolution at the end, where Alex observes that yes, Michael has tried the last 10 years but this is their first chance to try together- to pull in the same direction? It just lays me flat on the ground with how true that is to canon.

Whenever You Want to Begin, Begin by @foramomentonly (3200) - this is a sequel, and the first story is dynamite- don’t get me wrong- but it moves from the hopeful side of an ending to legit Happily-Ever-After here, and I devoured every word. First of all, having Michael turn to photography as a way of self-improvement is fucking genius. Photographers are always at the center of every happy event, but never the focus, and that screams Michael to me, the way he lives on the outskirts of the 9-5 job and literal outskirts of town in his trailer. The other thing is photographers are revealed by their work, and that’s also something I head-canon with Michael just in the mundane- he’s good with his hands, he wants to leave a car better than he found. Anyway, this story is gorgeously written, moves a bit like a really good bottle of wine- heavy but soft, as you watch Michael become Alex’s friend, and even more importantly, Alex becomes Michael’s friend. Fantastic- I’ve read it about four times now since it was published.

#rnmcreate2020 #malex fic #malex fic rec #MALEX FEELS #michael guerin #alex manes #fandom positivity #worship our great authors in this fandom #will this show up in the tags?#probably not with my luck

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hervoidfury · 4 years

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Halloween Madness — Trent Beretta.

- first overdue request by @alltimedevil13 ( sorry for being late I wanted it to be perfect. If you want another let me know )

— Trent Beretta x reader. ( I'm naming the reader Christy )

— word count: frankly this feels short so who knows this can be made into a series :'D

Halloween was Christy's favorite time of the year, aside from Christmas; seeing the excited faces of young kids coming in to get candy made the young woman happy. Unfortunately due to the pandemic, things have definitely shifted in terms of celebrating holidays, Halloween being no different than the rest.

Christy had been working with AEW since its debut last year, she had accepted as an assistant to the seamstress Sandra who is the brains behind the ring gears adorned by the AEW roster. Sandra was kind, open and accepting Christy's ideas in terms of creating the perfect ring gear for each male and female superstar.

Although working in a wrestling promotion is hard, Christy wouldn't trade it for anything; AEW is where she met the man she calls the love of her life Greg Marasciulo better known as Trent? — one half of Best Friends alongside Dustin Howard known as Chuck Taylor.

Initially Christy wasn't interested in a relationship given her past few relationships never worked. But Trent managed to work his way into her heart through small gestures, every morning he would bring her coffee and a peach scone; his excuse being is that he overheard her speak about scones to Stella who was the head makeup artist there.

Christy was more than certain that throughout the ten months they've dated, he was in fact the one.

" Babe " Christy mutters glancing his way from across the table where they sat in the catering area. " So you know how Halloween is close right? "

" Yeah! " exclaimed Trent in confusion before realizing what she was trying to say. " No! Christy as you can see the world is too fucked up for us to celebrate "

" How come we were able to celebrate other holidays just fine? Come on Greg, it would be fun just to dress up for the fun of it. I've already got everyone on board here and they seem to be down with the idea of adding the festive feel around " said Christy with a sigh.

" Well I'm not feeling it! " huffed Trent.

The pair were soon joined by Chuck, and Orange Cassidy.

" What's up with you? " said Chuck to his tag partner.

" He's refusing to dress up for Halloween for some odd reason, you seemed to be on board last year when you and Dustin dressed up as those characters " said Christy, she wasn't an avid watcher of animations.

" Rick and Morty " said Trent. " That was last year before the fucked up year that is 2020 happened. So no, I'm not okay with dressing up this year "

Christy glanced at the two other men expecting that they would help her only to realize that both of them seemed to lean towards what Trent had said. " Come on guys, not you too. Jim, come on we talked about this "

" I just humored you " shrugged Orange, " It just doesn't feel festive "

" Yeah, it's true " chimed Chuck.

" You three are no fun, if y'all wanna act this way go ahead. I guess I'll just be festive on my own without you " huffed Christy standing up.

The three males watched as Christy left, they felt a bit guilty due to the fact that for weeks she seemed awfully excited about the holiday. " I think we should do it. I mean sure we're not feeling the festive season but at least we can do it for her " said Chuck.

" She does seem sad " said Orange.

Both men turned to Trent who seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, " Alright, maybe we can do it but only for her. I don't like seeing her upset last time it killed me and this time I don't know how I'll feel "

" I think we don't tell her " said Orange, " It can be a surprise "

Chuck and Trent seemed to be convinced, so the three men began devising a plan to help cheer Christy up and hopefully ease what just happened off of her mind.

It had been around five days since the incident, Christy noticed how Trent seemed off and won't speak to her; whilst their bout at the catering did upset her she understood his side, she was still going to celebrate on her own ... opting to no longer bring the subject up, she went about with her work alongside Sandra helping her when needed whilst also ensuring that the gears weren't missing anything.

Whilst she was working on the final touches for Brandi's gear, she felt a figure approach her table glancing up to see MJF. an individual who's brought a whole new meaning to the term insufferable asshole ... " Yes? " muttered Christy.

" I came bearing gifts, I noticed that idiot didn't bring you your favorite scone so I took the liberty to bring it " said Maxwell placing the plate.

Christy sighed, what part of get lost and leave me alone doesn't he understand? thought the blonde as she gave him a fake smile, " Thank you, now do you mind? some of us have work to do "

" Of course, I'll see you around sweetheart " He left but not before sending her a wink.

Christy nearly threw up, the fact that he was openly behaving this way made her wish she continued her wrestling training early on, at least she could've smashed his head into a wall. Suddenly she spotted Stella, " Hey Stella "

" Hey Christy, I just saw MJF. I'm assuming he was flirting yet again? " said Stella with an amused smile.

Christy nodded, " Greg and I dating just flies over his dumb head, speaking of Greg did you see him? I haven't seen him all day here "

" Knowing Greg, he's probably with the others filming for BTE " said Stella, " or hanging outside in the arena "

" Must be why he left early? " muttered Christy.

Suddenly a commotion could be heard close by, Stella and Christy both shared a confused glance before realizing who was behind the commotion. Trent, Chuck and Orange were dressed up head to toe as the three musketeers — Christy couldn't help the smile adorning her features.

" This is so cute " said Stella.

" Milady! " said Trent.

" Greg, what is all this? Guys what are y'all doing? " said Christy.

" Well we saw how we made you upset and felt like complete dicks " said Chuck.

" Just so you know I'm not walking out to my match like this " chimed Orange, " But yeah we wanted to cheer you up "

" And ask for your forgiveness, babe I'm sorry I was in a bad mood and I promise I will partake in the festive season with you. This is the first costume by the way " said Trent.

Christy quickly wiped away her tears, rising up to hug Trent along with Chuck and Orange. " Thank you guys for being considerate even if you weren't feeling the mood " she smiled.

" Hey you are our Best Friend and the love of his life " said Chuck grinning.

" Tell you what! After our match you'll tell me all about your plans and we can workout something spooky ... What do you say? " said Trent.

Christy responded by giving him a kiss. " I love you so much "

Trent smiled " I love you too "

#chuck taylor imagine #trent beretta imagine #orange cassidy imagine #aew imagines #aew #chuckie t #trent?#orange cassidy

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simplyshelbs16xoxo · 3 years

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‘wreck my plans’ chapter 6: your heart was glass...

FFN | Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?

They took the night train into Sheffield. Tom sat across from her, a science fiction novel open in his hands. It was only a two hour ride, but Molly wished she had brought something to distract her from everything. Instead she sat there, her heart hurting, wishing she had the courage to bring up what she needed to speak to him about. There had been a lack of that lately, courage. The first weekend of the new year, she had a symposium to attend where she’d be giving a talk about her most recent published article.

Curious, she decided to at least say something. “Did you ever read my paper? The one that was published a few weeks back?”

Without looking up from his book, Tom furrowed his brows. “What paper?”

“It was the one about the unusual cases of tandem bullets and how to spot the findings of such an injury,” Molly reminded him.

“Uh, no, sorry, Molls, can’t say I have,” he replied, still not looking at her. “You know it’s not my cup of tea.”

Not his cup of tea, indeed. She rolled her eyes. Of course he hadn’t. But Sherlock had. And without prompting. A small smile bloomed on her face at the memory. He had told her it was brilliant. “My clever Molly,” he called her.

Molly turned her head toward the window, watching as more stars dotted the sky the further from London they got. She blinked her eyes slowly, fighting the exhaustion she felt. It wasn’t long before everything went black, dreams of Sherlock in her head. This time, she didn’t fight them. They were lovely dreams of Sherlock kissing her, holding her, touching her, making her his. It was more than she could bear. Then they were dancing, the song playing in the background tugging at her heart.

Goodbye, my almost lover

Goodbye, my hopeless dream

Tears stained her face as she slept. She’d cry an ocean for him, the water’s colour matching his eyes. He was calling out to her, her name like a prayer on his lips. What followed were the words she had longed to hear him say: I love you. And damn it, she could no longer deny that she loved him too.

Arrived in Sheffield safe and sound. It probably won’t be long until I’m dead to the world. Happy Christmas to you too, Sherlock. And thanks for thinking of me.

-Mx

Sherlock read over her words several times before finally setting his phone down to look over the sheet music in front of him, adding the final notes to his composition for her. Reaching for his violin, he put the bow to the strings, allowing the first sorrowful notes to overcome him. The music coursed through his veins as it poured out from his heart. The tone shifted into something tender, romantic. He thought of her eyes, her laugh, her smile; the way she lingered long enough to drive him crazy when she kissed his cheek.

Downstairs, Mrs. Hudson listened to the music—she loved it when he played—with tears in her eyes. “You poor dear…” she blubbered, using a tissue to blow her nose. She so wished he would just tell Molly how he felt. There was no doubt in her mind that the girl loved him back. They were both so damn stubborn.

As Sherlock brought the music to a close, he let out a ragged breath. Setting the violin back in its case, he thought of how much he wished he could have her here for Christmas. He wasn’t overly fond of the holiday, but it sparked joy in her. They could spend it together—just the two of them by the fire, he in his chair and her, legs curled up on his lap. It was a nice little dream. Sherlock so desperately wanted her to know he loved her. He wasn’t giving up without a fight this time.

Molly looked around at all the once-familiar faces. The house was crowded with Tom’s family—people she met only a small handful of times—but she never felt so alone in her life. When she thought of family, images of John and Mary showed up, Greg, Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, and, of course, Sherlock. They were the ones she should be spending Christmas with. It wasn’t that Tom’s family was awful—quite the opposite. It had been so long since she had a parent-like figure in her life.

“Have you two set a date yet?” his mother asked. She threw a stealthy wink at her son.

Tom shook his head, amused by the question. “We discussed April in the beginning, didn’t we, Molls?”

“Hmm?” she said sleepily. “Oh, uh, yeah.” They only discussed it, never officially choosing anything yet. Or, at least, she never did. “Sorry, just a bit tired from the ride over. Thomas, do you know if my phone is done charging yet?”

He headed over to the small charging table across the room and retrieved it for her. “All charged up,” he smiled, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

“Thanks,” she replied, a sad smile on her face. Tom did love her, she had no doubt about that, but it wasn’t the way she had always imagined. Then again, life wasn’t a fairytale. But it could be, Mary’s voice rang clear in her head. Molly unlocked her phone finding another text from Sherlock.

Glad you made it safely. Have a good night, Molly. Sleep well and have pleasant dreams.

-SHx

She had no idea how long she sat there staring at the little ‘x’ he added beside his initials just for her. Needing to be alone with her thoughts, Molly headed upstairs. A few people—his mum, aunt, and grandmother—bid her goodnight. She acknowledged them briefly, happy when she was able to turn the corner at the top of the steps. It was another hour or so before Tom joined her. He slipped in beneath the duvet, oblivious to the fact she had been crying. Not that she knew what for. She wanted to start a fight with him if only just to feel something other than the pain that had been eating her up for weeks.

“I don’t think I’m who you think I am,” she muttered to him.

Tom turned toward her. “Where’s this coming from?”

Molly sighed. “From a long overdue conversation, and please don’t just shut me down like you always do. It’s getting old. I think when you met me, I was a shell of the person I am. You fell in love with the wrong girl.”

“Come, now, Molls, I know who you are,” Tom tried to assure her. “This is just wed—well, engagement jitters. Is that why we haven’t done much of anything to plan? I know it can be overwhelming.”

She shook her head. He really didn’t know her at all. “What’s my favourite colour?”

“I—what’s that got to do with anything?” he asked. “It’s green.”

Molly smiled sadly. “No, it’s not. It’s yellow.”

“It’s just a colour, Molls,” he told her, yawning.

“It’s your favourite colour,” she told him.

“What is?”

“Green,” she replied. “That’s the colour you like.”

“Actually…it’s not,” he admitted.

Molly scrunched her face in confusion. “Then why do you wear green so much?”

Tom ran a hand through his hair. “You said you really liked green on me when we were first dating.”

She tried so hard, but couldn’t control the laughter that came out. Tom joined in, knowing how ridiculous they’d been. Sharing a laugh helped lessen the tension, but he couldn’t deny she had a point. Like most things though, he let it roll off his shoulders, chalking it up to nerves or pressure. Maybe if he could make things easier on her. Wedding planning was a bit contrived. Perhaps she’d prefer spontaneity? The cogs were turning in his head, though it wasn’t long before they both drifted to sleep, facing away from one another.

A Little Over a Year Ago

“Molly! You made it!” Meena shrieked in excitement. The pub was crowded, music from the house band thumping through the speakers around her. She dragged Molly over to the bar. “I’d like you to meet Tom! He’s a friend of my brother’s!”

“Hi,” Tom greeted her somewhat awkwardly. He held out his hand to her and Molly shook it.

“Hello,” she replied, forcing a smile, unable to ignore how he dressed similarly to a certain consulting detective. Some days were still difficult since Sherlock had gone. It had been nearly a year since he left. Molly knew he was alive, but she grieved him just the same. She felt his absence in everything she did, searching for him in the lab or expecting him to come sweeping in the morgue like he did before. Mike had caught her once in the lab, heaving sobs wracking her body.

“It’ll be alright, Molly,” he had told her, silently asking permission to hug her. She nodded and let him comfort her. He knew how much Sherlock meant to her. “We all miss him.”

Needless to say, it wasn’t difficult for her to convince everyone of her own grief. She prayed for his safety every single night. And, Meena, bless her soul, was trying to help Molly move on.

“Would you mind if I bought you a drink?” Tom asked.

Determined to enjoy herself, Molly replied, “Not at all. Thank you.”

Meena’s brother joined them moments later, and the four of them traded stories from Uni, laughing at all the shit they got into. It was the first time Sherlock hadn’t lingered in her mind since his departure, and Molly felt lighter than she had in months. Tom was lovely, treated her kindly. They bonded over their love of BBC’s Miranda and Doctor Who. She learned that he liked to go to the pub on weekends to watch football with his mates.

Molly was hesitant to share anything about her. She certainly didn’t want to tell him she was still grieving the loss of her closest friend, though it would eventually come out later thanks to Meena. She listened to him talk about his family, growing up in Sheffield. When he asked about hers, all she could muster was, “There’s no one left. Just me.” The emptiness left inside her made itself known once more at the reminder that she really had next to no one left in her life. She had Meena, and of course that should be enough, but somehow it wasn’t.

“Hey…you okay?” Tom asked, breaking her free from the depressing thoughts in her head.

“Hmm? Sorry.” She laughed nervously. “I tend to get lost in my head sometimes—it’s been happening a lot more often lately.”

“Nice to see you joining the land of the living,” Meena joked.

Molly rolled her eyes playfully. The rest of the night eased her troubled mind. They had gone and played darts, girls against guys. Only by two points, the girls had lost, but it was because of Tom’s insanely accurate throws. She felt flirty with the alcohol in her system, and decided to present a proposition to Tom. “Take one more shot, and if you hit the bullseye—“

“And what?” he asked, teasing her, his eyes practically undressing her. “Do I get a snog out of this?”

Meena’s brother whistled loudly.

Feeling bold, she nodded. “You better not miss.” Surprising her, Tom took a moment to line up the shot and hit it right in the center. Meena and her brother cheered and started shouting in excitement when Molly pulled Tom in for a searing kiss. From that alone, she could feel the void that had been left in her life from Sherlock’s absence start to close up bit by bit. And it left her wanting more.

Nine Months Ago

It had been a bit of whirlwind. Molly had dated Tom for a month before they made it official. Now, two months in an actual relationship, she felt content. His gentle demeanor was exactly what she needed in her life at the moment, and she was thankful for it. They were to have dinner tonight over at his place. She was excited mostly to see his dog, Milo, who always looked put out every time he took a whiff of her, smelling her cat’s scent on her clothes.

“Molly,” he smiled brightly when he opened his door to his flat. “Come on in. Milo’s missed you.” He shut the door behind her after she stepped inside, and kissed her lips firmly. “I’ve missed you too.”

She laughed, feeling her face flush. “You know I’m only with you for your dog, right?” she joked, bending down to scratch beneath Milo’s chin. He sniffed her, letting out a disapproving growl. “You’ll have to just get used to it, Milo.”

“I knew you were too good to be true,” Tom joked back from the kitchen. “Milo gets all the love.”

They eventually sat down to eat the delicious dinner Tom had cooked up for them. There wasn’t a lot he was good at making, but Molly didn’t care much, for she wasn’t one for cooking, herself. “There was this tumor I found during my autopsy today; it was so small, but intricately woven throughout the tissue. So sad for the poor man, of course, but it was fascinating!”

Tom blanched, fighting the urge to vomit. “Is that so?”

“Oh! Sorry, I forget I can’t just talk about that stuff with anyone.” Molly wanted to slink beneath the table, embarrassed of her enthusiasm.

He smiled weakly. “No worries, just maybe no autopsy talk tonight?”

“Right, of course, sorry.” It was the fifth or sixth time she felt she had to apologise for her more…odd interests.

They finished up dinner and settled on the sofa for a movie that, about halfway in, was ignored in favor of a little snogging. Molly tried to get herself to relax, matching his enthusiasm in an effort to clear her head.

“I think I love you,” Tom had spoken against her lips.

Molly paused, unsure at first, and then spoke slowly, “I think I do too.”

#sherlolly #wreck my plans #my fanfiction

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benkouji726 · 4 years

Text

Written for alexweek2020. Sequel to “Settled”, but can also be read as one-off. ...I think.

Anyways, “Settled” is based on meet ugly prompt 2: I bought a house three months ago but I’m finally moving in and discover you’ve been squatting because you’re homeless.

Spoiler alert: they ended up living together! And none of them are aliens! Jesse died in the previous work, so all is well...ish.

Home can be a person

They’d been living together for a month now, and Alex still knew nothing about Michael Guerin.

OK that wasn’t entirely true. He knew plenty. Because one, he was a military man, his livelihood depended on his observation skills. And two, their schedules somehow synced perfectly, and after a week of awkwardly bumping each other in the kitchen and waiting turns to use the bathroom, it was simply easier if they just worked out a systematic plan to build their lives around each other, which led to divided chores, respected bathroom routines and shared meals. And when two men spent that much time together, they had no choice but to have conversations, which were really not that hard, because they clicked like magnets and they actually enjoyed spending time together.

So Alex knew plenty. Both from his observations and their conversations. But it was not like Guerin volunteered personal informations, and even he did, it was always surface stuff, so it didn’t really count. Like he knew Guerin was a mechanic, who was really good at his job. So good that he even opened his own auto shop the second year into the business. And based on what Alex saw, money was not exactly an issue for him. Which frankly didn’t match up with his squatting life style, not to mention he owned a perfectly functional airstream, but that topic was always brushed aside.

Alex also knew Guerin had two siblings, who moved away a year ago. They were both married, and apparently lived nearly enough that they did a weekly get together. Guerin would join them via FaceTime, they would laugh and talk, and Guerin seemed so happy when they did this, which did not explain why he was always a little sad when they were done. But again, not to be talked about.

Sometimes Alex would be impressed by Guerin’s topic changing skills. Granted, his go-to move was more often than not flirtation, but it worked like a charm on Alex, so whatever got the job done, right? And rationally, Alex knew he should be grateful, because Guerin was a surprisingly pleasant roommate. He was good company, he wasn’t nosy, he did VERY good repair work around the house, his cooking skills were better than Alex’s, and he slowly became the reason why Alex was looking forward to going back home after a day’s work. And truth be told, Alex wasn’t exactly an open book himself, so he should just respect Guerin’s boundaries and enjoy their easygoing companionship.

But he just couldn’t.

34 days into their co-living arrangement, Guerin came home, visibly upset. It was Alex’s day to make dinner. So he ignored Guerin at first to finish the lasagna. But when he was putting together a cob salad, he heard Guerin throw his tool box on to the floor, and caused a loud clang.

Guerin NEVER threw his tool box.

“What’s got into you today?” OK that was a little harsh. But in his defense, Alex was kind of tired of asking “are you ok” at that point, because he always got a “just dandy” and a too-big-to-be-genuine smile in reply.

Guerin shut down immediately, threw on a well-practiced smirk, and said: “Nothing. Unless you are up for the job?”

And just like that, Alex snapped.

He got up, got his keys, and left the house.

It was when he sat in his car, had no idea where he’d go, he realized that he didn’t even bring his wallet and phone, which was just stupid.

The whole thing was stupid.

He knew he had no right to feel angry and hurt. They didn’t have that kind of relationship. Guerin didn’t owe him anything.

But he had felt their connection the first time they’d met, and it was there ever since. He thought Guerin felt it too.

Apparently he was wrong.

He came back two hours later, because he needed that time to work out an apology and also to learn not to be this naive again. When he got home, Guerin was sitting at the kitchen table, seemingly lost in his thoughts, lasagna in front of him, cold and forgotten.

“Hey, I’m sorry about earlier, it was really none of my busi...” He began but was cut by Guerin mid-sentence.

“I didn’t eat”.

“...OK? Were u not hungry or was the lasagna that bad?”

Guerin looked up at him then. His eyes big, voice raw.

“I didn’t eat because it felt wrong.”

He looked back down at the lasagna.

“After you left, I was angry at first. Because fuck you, you know? I don’t owe you anything.”

“Yes, Guerin, I know, I was trying to apologize...”

Guerin continued as if not heard him at all.

“And then I got up to help me some food, man’s gotta eat, and frankly, lasagna is like, the only food you can make right. So I got myself a plate, and I sat down. Normally at that point, you would begin to nag me about eating some salad or drinking some water first, but then I looked up, and you were just, not there.”

He looked up again. All open and bare.

“So yeah, maybe it was not your business, but it was also wrong of me to assume I didn’t want it to be.”

They stared at each other. Both at lost what to say next. Eventually, Alex sat across the table, reached out, and squeezed Guerin’s hand.

“You reheat the lasagna, I’ll finish making the salad. And we’ll eat. OK? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, you didn’t even bring your wallet. I mean, dramatic much?”

“Shut up, Guerin.”

They didn’t talk about why Guerin was upset that night, but it was OK.

—————————

Things got better after that. They talked now, not just making conversation. Alex learned that Guerin had been in the system for a long time. His siblings, Max and Isobel, were actually not related to him. They had been just best friends in group homes, until they were adopted by the Evans, while Guerin went through many terrible foster families. They were united at the age of 15, when Guerin’s new foster home brought him to Roswell, and they had been inseparable ever since.

“That was, until Max decided to marry someone in LA, and moved there. And then Isobel’s husband also got a job in LA, they moved soon after. So it was just the same old me, again.”

They were at the fire pit in front of Guerin’s airstream, which he still wasn’t using, except sometimes he would go in there and do God knows what, they still didn’t reach the subject why he had been squatting yet. Alex suspected it had something to do with his issues with his siblings moving away, like the bitterness in his voice now had.

“Well, you’re literally sitting next to me now, so not exactly the same, you know?”

Guerin startled, and looked over at Alex with something like hope mixed with fear in his eyes. Alex stared right back, because at this point, he really wasn’t interested in pretending that they didn’t mean something to each other. And he hoped Guerin would drop the “I’m a lone wolf and I don’t care” act too, at least when he was with him.

Whatever Guerin saw on his face, seemed to satisfy him. He smiled, the kind of smile that reached his heart and soul, and said,

“You trying to hold my hand now, private?”

And they did.

—————————

Alex woke up in screaming. Next thing he knew, he was in Guerin’s arms.

He didn’t remember the dream. But he could easily guess the content. It was always the same. Bomb, blood, cries, he looked down, his leg was gone. Sometimes his father was there, sometimes he wasn’t. Either way, he felt his presence.

Normally, after he woke up from such a dream, he would do some breath exercise, get up, get some water, and didn’t even try to sleep again. But tonight, Guerin was right there, humming something like a lullaby, and rubbing soothing circles on his back. He didn’t say anything, or ask how he was doing, just held him and gently rocked him.

At some point, maybe ten minutes, maybe an hour later, they lied down, together on Alex’s bed. Guerin’s hand slowly reached down, until he touched his stump. He rubbed it once, twice, and then he just stayed there.

Alex fell sleep.

——————————

Friday movie nights became some sort of tradition between them. They would finish their work, meet at the house, grab something to eat, and then drive to the drive-in theatre. Alex liked those nights, hell, he cherished those nights.

So he was very irritated when some shitty client just didn’t know what it meant to demand something WITHIN REASON, and he had to cancel their movie night via a short text. He was even more irritated when said client walked out in the last minute, so his previous work was totally wasted. Plus his new prosthetic was giving him trouble all day. Safe to say he was not in the greatest mood.

When he got home though, he was met by Guerin’s soft smile and homemade dinner. By the time they finished eating, he felt more or less like human again. Then Guerin gave him a dessert, told him to rest a bit on the sofa, and disappeared in the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, he pulled Alex into the bathroom, where he already drew a bath for Alex.

He even lit some candles.

All of a sudden, Alex wanted to cry, except he hadn’t cried in ten years.

So he let out a shaky breath, buried himself in Guerin’s arms, and asked a stupid question.

“Why did you do all this?”

Guerin held him, shifted somewhat awkwardly, and said in a quiet voice.

“You spelled ‘bail’ wrong.”

Of all the answers, THAT was not what Alex expected.

“What?”

“Your text. I guess you meant to say you had to bail on our movie night. But you spelled it ‘ball’. Auto correct or something. And you never spelled wrong. So I figured, you must be exhausted.”

At that, Alex just HAD to kiss him.

—————————

They visited Greg together on a Saturday morning.

At the drive home, Alex was awfully quiet.

Michael didn’t ask. He made coffee. He fetched a blanket. He sat beside Alex on the sofa, and began to read his monthly mechanic magazine.

Alex talked before he decided he wanted to.

“My father was a piece of shit. And out of my three brothers, Greg is the only decent one. But when we were kids, he didn’t know how to protect me or stand up for me, when my father beat the shit out of me.”

Michael dropped his magazine, and silently held his hand. And Alex decided he wanted to keep talking.

“I wanted to make music. He sent me to war. Frankly, war wasn’t even a worse choice than my so called home. It just wasn’t a better choice either.”

“I never felt I belong anywhere, not at home. Not at war. I bought the house because Greg asked me to, because he was the only one who reminded me a shred of the ‘home’ concept. But today, seeing him with his family, I realized, he is my family, but he is not home.”

“I still don’t belong.”

He hadn’t cried for ten years. He didn’t want to begin now.

Expect the hands wiping his tears were so gentle, he couldn’t seem to stop.

“I was offered a great job opportunity in New York, when I finished my study at UNM. But four years apart from Max and Isobel were tough enough that I decided to ditch that and move back.”

“I never felt I belonged, too, what with the fucked up system and shitty foster homes, except when I was with them. So I clung to them, a little bit desperately. When they moved away, I felt betrayed, left out and abandoned. I didn’t want to live in my airstream anymore because it felt like a fantasy I built, just to fool myself into thinking I could have followed them anywhere in it, because they were my harbor. But then they were gone, so I decided I wasn’t supposed to settle in anywhere, and that’s when I began to squat in people’s not lived in houses. Because they are just like me, you know, abandoned.”

“Until you invited me to live with you.”

They held each other a long time after that.

—————————

The email came on a Wednesday morning, and Michael was on the plane that very night to LA, because Liz was going into labor and Michael would become an uncle.

He asked Alex to come with him, but he was caught up at work so he just couldn’t make it.

They called each other every day though, Michael showed him so many baby pictures he even dreamed about it one night. He was vibrating joyful energy and Alex was happy for him.

Then on the fourth night since he was gone, he called Alex, hesitation evident in his voice.

“Liz pulled some strings at her university. And they offered me a job here.” He said, without so much as a hello.

Alex felt the world shook for a moment. Then he blinked, and the house seemed the same, intact, but somehow much quieter, and larger.

“I’m happy for you.”

An exhale.

“You are happy for me.” Michael repeated, slowly.

Alex shut his eyes. He thought of all the times Michael looked at the photos of the three of them, and all the times he seemed to be lost after he ended their phone calls, and he opened his eyes again.

“They are your family.” He said simply.

Another exhale.

“Yeah, they are.”

Silence.

After three minutes of nothing else, Alex hung up.

——————————

Michael came back on Tuesday afternoon.

Alex had not been sleeping well, or eating properly, so at first he thought he might be dreaming or something.

But there he was, clearly not been sleeping well, or eating properly himself, eyes glaring with fond anger.

“You are a dumbass, you know? You’re just gonna give me up like that?”

Alex refused to back down.

“It’s not giving up. You always wanted a family, a home. I don’t wanna stand between you and your opportunity of that.”

Michael shook his head, sighed, and pulled Alex into his arms.

“You still don’t understand, do you? They are my family, true. But YOU are my home.”

And there, stood in his embrace, Alex finally understood.

#alexweek2020 #day 1: home can be a person #malex #malex fic #my fic #alex manes #michael guerin

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sadaboutniall · 4 years

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something about you;

introduction | masterlist | tag | wattpad

Two. September, 2003.

Niall’s birthday wasn’t supposed to be like this.

The plan had been for him, Da, Mully and Greg to go to a Derby match today. It would be Mully’s first time going to a match in person and Niall had lent him one of his favorite jerseys to wear so he’d fit right in. Da said he’d buy them both ice cream at Pride Park too, even if it was cold, and Derby were sure to win against Walsall. It was going to be the best 10th birthday anyone had ever had.

And then Da got a stomach bug.

And then Mully’s mam said he couldn’t come over anymore because she didn’t want him to catch the stomach bug too, just in case.

And now it’s all gone to shite.

And now Niall’s here, walking along the canal, annoyed, and alone on his birthday. He hasn’t even had any cake and no one’s offered to make him any—Mam is too far away and Greg would probably burn down the gaff if he tried, anyway. He supposes he could call the Devines or Nicky or anyone else, but he feels a bit tired, his feet a bit heavy, every task a bit too much. He’s finding it hard to stop doing this: walking, aimless, hands in the pockets of his windbreaker, feet kicking at the rocks along the canal. He’s got that new Black Eyed Peas song called Where Is The Love? stuck in his head and he’s humming it mindlessly as the wind pushes him forward along his walk. Autumn is coming—the grass along the canal is looking a little browner than it is green, and Niall can smell the change of the seasons in the breeze. It makes him a little more annoyed. He’s never liked the end of summer.

He’s in the middle of a daydream about Derby winning the championship when the barking starts.

Niall snaps back into it with barely half a second to spare. He swerves a little to his left as the dog—big and white with muddy paws—comes straight at him, wagging its tail and swinging its tongue. He only just manages not to scream.

‘Sorry, sorry!’ Someone is running after the dog, a familiar voice with a familiar laugh and—oh. Isla.

‘Oh,’ she sounds just as surprised as he feels. ‘Hiya, Niall. Happy birthday! Sorry about him,’ She tugs at the dog’s lead, which is trailing behind him. ‘Púca just wants to be friends, he’s easily excited.’

‘S’alright,’ Niall shoves his shaking hands back into his pockets before Isla can see. She’s a little too bundled up for the weather today, a puffer jacket zipped all the way up, a bobble hat pulled over her ears. Her cheeks are flushed pink even though it’s not that cold and she’s been biting at her lips. Niall’s tummy does that thing it does around Isla sometimes, and he feels a little floaty.

‘I’m just walking Púca with my mam,’ Isla looks back behind her and Niall’s eyes follow. He recognizes Mrs. Boyne from school pickup and drop off, although it’s been a while since he’s seen her. First Class feels like a million years ago, now—like it’s been forever since Isla handed him her peanut butter sandwich. ‘What are you doing here? Sean Mulholland has been nattering all week about going to England for a football match with you today.’

After that first day, one of the things Niall cottoned onto quickly is just how friendly Isla is. She’s helpful, and curious, and she treats everyone like they’re special. Niall reminds himself of that, sometimes, when he starts to think she’s only asking him these kinds of questions. Instead, he says, ‘My da got ill. He’s been throwing up all day so he can’t take us.’

‘Ick,’ Isla scrunches up her nose and shakes her head. ‘I’m sorry, that’s not very fun. You must be sad.’

She’s the first person to say that to Niall all day. Da had apologized this morning, sure, and Mam had called to do the same, but no one had said it—had simply, thoughtfully, easily put it into words for Niall like that: he must be sad. He is sad. And Isla is the only one who’ll say it.

He doesn’t even have to admit it, though. Isla just carries on: ‘you could play football in the park with your mates? Or you could go home and watch the match on telly, but that might make you even more sad. Or you could walk with mam and me, if you want. You shouldn’t be alone on your birthday.’

‘I—’ Niall’s weighing the options. He thinks he probably should want to play football with his mates, but something about walking with Isla and her mom sounds so nice. He wouldn’t want to intrude on their family time but—

‘Isla, pet, are you—oh, hello, Niall, dear, how are you?’ Mrs. Boyne’s caught up with them now. Niall smiles politely, opens his mouth to tell her he’s very fine, thank you very much for asking, ma’am.

Isla beats him to it. ‘It’s Niall’s birthday, mammy. He was meant to go to a football match today in England with Sean Mulholland but his da is too ill to take them. Can he come walking with us?’

‘Oh, you poor thing,’ Mrs. Boyne puts a hand over her heart, shaking her head. ‘That’s no way to spend your birthday. Come along, we’re nearly home again. I’ve got supper on the hob and made extra—you’ll take some home for yourself and Greg.’

Niall had a handful of protests at the ready, but then Isla smiles and he can’t think of them. Can’t think of much, really, other than the way she reaches out for his arm. Her hands are freezing cold as they wrap gently around his bicep—he can feel them through his windbreaker. She squeezes it gently and when she says ‘come on, then,’ Niall has no choice, really, but to follow her.

#one direction #1dff #one direction fan fiction #niall horan #niall horan fic #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan imagine #niall #something about you #here's part two!#I hope you like it!#thank you again to rand #for her help reading this beforehand #and with the soccer stuff ashkfjisdfsd

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misskinaiya · 4 years

Text

Draco Malfoy and Healing

Okay okay think this:

(Hogwarts sixth year)

Draco Malfoy entered the Room of Hidden Things fully intent on working on the broken Vanishing Cabinet like usual but found an “intruder” in the Room. On a settee near a stack of books just a few feet away from the Cabinet sat a raven-haired witch with her face buried in a book.

She snapped to attention when the door closed noisily behind Draco. Despite standing with her back rod-straight, she still looked tiny to him. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Reading.” She waved the book she was holding, looking sheepish at being caught and by a prefect at that. “Is the Room off-limits?”

“How did you find this Room?” Draco asked a question of his own instead, because he didn’t really know what the answer to her question was. He supposed it wasn’t, since he’s been going there for months and no one bothered to stop him.

“I, uh, found it one time while exploring the castle. The books here aren’t available in the library so I go every now and then to read. What about you?”

He forced himself not to react to that. Of course she was only there for the books. She was a Ravenclaw witch in his year, and they shared Arithmancy, Charms, and Herbology classes before N.E.W.T level. They never really talked before but she was familiar enough to him. She never caused trouble in the past and he hoped she wasn’t in the mood to start doing so now.

Draco ignored the churning in his stomach and said, “Here to read as well.” It wasn’t technically a lie. He read there sometimes, referring to old tomes for mending charms when he felt stuck at his assignment, which he often did.

He approached her slowly, plucking a random book he had already scanned through before from the stack with the intent to wait until she left before doing what he really was there for.

She scooted over to make space for him to sit on. Draco flipped to a page on mending furniture and made himself comfortable before pretending to be absorbed in what he was reading. He was considering using the Imperius Curse to make her leave and wiping her memories of the Room when she suddenly leaned towards him to check on what he was reading.

Draco’s entire body tensed and he fought every instinct to move away and turn his wand on her. “Hey! Mending charms. What do you need those for?”

He waited for the witch to sit back before answering. “Vince keeps on accidentally breaking stuff in our room.” He said and she laughed at the ridiculous image of Vincent Crabbe knocking things over anywhere he went.

“I read about Healing, mostly. They have a lot of books here about it! You might find some handy. Did you know you could use Healing spells to mend objects as well? Apparently, Magic views our bodies just like everyday objects.”

His head snapped towards her, mouth gaping unconsciously. His mind raced with the possibilities. “I know right? It’s incredible. Unfortunately, people would only have access to Healing spells if they took formal training to become a Healer. But who knew this Room would have a stack of Healing books?” She gushed, unbeknownst to what she just did. Draco almost felt bad for her. Almost.

When the witch finally moved to leave the Room, Draco stood to fake leaving as well. Once she was gone, he immediately went back inside and put wards around the Vanishing Cabinet, making sure to keep her away from its vicinity. He sought out the books she was talking about and duplicated them before storing them near the Cabinet for his future reference.

Draco’s first breakthrough since he started working on the assignment happened in late January. It worked! All the Healing spells were effective in some ways and they held permanently, unlike the charms he used to cast. He had to use a bunch of them together at a time to improve the Cabinet’s condition and it would still take time to perfect its functions but there would be sure progress from then on.

He mostly stayed in the Room, skipping his classes entirely as he obsessed over the Cabinet and ignored the Ravenclaw witch who visited the Room every two weeks and stayed for a few hours before leaving again. Draco would never acknowledge it out loud but the times she was there with him were comforting. Greg and Vince guarded the Room outside for Draco but having someone in the Room with him, even when the witch was oblivious to her company thanks to the wards he put in place to hide his presence, ebbed the loneliness he was constantly feeling.

It was a Friday morning sometime in February when the Ravenclaw witch next met Draco in the Room of Hidden Things. As Draco entered the Room, she immediately looked up and beamed at him. “Draco! I thought you’d be here.”

He felt disconcerted. Why was she here at this time? She only visited on Wednesday afternoons. He sighed to himself, resolving to spend a few hours unproductively with her in the Room. He supposed he could take a rest, he’s been working relentlessly for weeks after all.

It took no more than a few minutes for Draco to fall asleep against one arm of the settee. The witch beside him smiled adoringly at his sleeping figure. Why isn’t he attending classes? Why isn’t he taking meals in the Great Hall? Why does he look so exhausted? She wanted to ask but instead, she let him sleep. He looked like he really needed it. She’d ask him some other time.

Draco woke up to someone gently prodding his arm. “Hey, it’s time for lunch. And we have double Potions right after. Come on!” He couldn't believe he fell asleep! He was too disoriented to stop her from pulling him down to the Great Hall. He ignored the two Polyjuiced girls outside the Room and relished in the feeling of someone holding his arm without the intent to hurt him.

It was the first time in weeks that the student body saw Draco Malfoy in the Great Hall. It was also the first time in weeks that Theodore Nott had a partner in Potions.

“You weren’t at Charms and Arithmancy this morning.” The raven-haired witch said as a greeting. She found Draco holed up in the Room again that Monday afternoon.

Draco ignored her. He went to class for two straight weeks before disappearing again. It was now a few weeks into spring and he had been avoiding her. This was more important, he thought. He couldn’t slack off when his mother was trapped in their own home with that monster. No one was there to protect her from harm and Draco could only go home once he was done with this.

“What’s going on with you?” His skin had gone ever paler, how that was possible was beyond her. He lost a significant amount of weight and he really looked like he could use some sleep. Maybe a ton.

She tried not to let the sting of being ignored get to her. Instead, she sat beside Draco in her usual spot and picked a random book from the stack. It was a book on Magical genealogy. When she sneaked a glance in Draco’s direction, she found him fast asleep. This time, her smile was sad. She wondered which ones of all the rumors going around were true, if there were even any. She wondered if her questions would ever get the answers from him. She wondered if they were at least friends now.

One Wednesday afternoon, she brought sandwiches from lunch with her. She did so because she had no plans of going down to dinner later and not because they were for Draco because she didn’t see him at lunch. She would wait in the Room until Draco showed up. She didn’t know why she wanted to see him, only that it was imperative that she did.

She fell asleep an hour into the book she had chosen to read and when she woke up, Draco was there munching on a sandwich she brought. She definitely did not feel delighted at the sight of him. Most definitely not.

“Those are mine.” She said, in exchange for greeting (for the nth time) because she didn’t know whether a hi or hello would do for them.

“Not anymore.” He took a big bite and chewed with exaggeration. She playfully rolled her eyes at him and forced herself to read instead of watching him eat.

She wondered when he got there and why she didn’t wake up because she was a light sleeper and the door would surely rouse her if anybody came into the Room. She wondered if Draco was submitting his requirements through his friends from Slytherin because there was no way he was not getting in trouble with all the skipping he’s been doing. She wondered if he missed flying and training and playing Quidditch because she never saw him out in the field anymore. She voiced none of these because she had learned not to ask questions and just enjoyed his company.

Draco never acknowledged her outside of the Room of Hidden Things before so it was a surprise for her when he smiled at her as they both entered the Quidditch field to watch the Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw match. It had been brief and small so she wondered if she hallucinated the moment, barely paying attention to the game as she stared across the field to where the Slytherin prefect stood from one of the Slytherin stands.

The previous days were anxiety-ridden with rumors of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter having a duel in a bathroom, with Draco Malfoy being seriously injured, with Harry Potter being covered in blood. The small witch never really bothered with the rumors before because most of them were far from the truth but she couldn’t stop herself from worrying anyway.

She never saw Draco in the Room anymore. He stopped attending classes for months now. The few times he ate at the Great Hall, he was always surrounded by his own friends that she found no window to approach him. So she was grateful for whatever spirits were out there for this opportunity to see him. She couldn’t even be bothered with the great loss their House suffered that day.

At the end of June, Albus Dumbledore died and before she even fully comprehended the news, her parents were already at Hogwarts fetching her. They stayed in Switzerland the entire summer to get away from the War.

It wasn’t until seventh year started and they were mandated to go back to school that she heard the full story from Padma Patil.

Draco Malfoy was recruited as a Death Eater before their sixth year.

Draco Malfoy attempted to assassinate Albus Dumbledore.

Draco Malfoy let Death Eaters into Hogwarts through a Vanishing Cabinet in the castle.

Severus Snape was actually a Death Eater and he killed Dumbledore in cold blood.

Draco Malfoy was now Head Boy alongside Pansy Parkinson, who was appointed Head Girl. Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass were appointed as Prefects as well. It was like the Inquisitorial Squad all over again.

As the Welcoming Feast went on, she thought back to all the times she spent with Draco Malfoy in the Room of Hidden Things. She thought about the broken cabinet near the stack of books where she always stayed. She thought about Draco’s interest in mending charms and the glint in his eyes when she talked about Healing magic. She thought about the times Draco fell shortly asleep as he lounged on his side of the settee. She thought about the missed meals and the skipped classes.

She found herself staring straight at Draco Malfoy from across their tables and her eyes stung with unshed tears as questions flooded her mind.

She voiced none of those either.

(Draco was ready to answer her questions now.)

She never went to the Room of Hidden Things anymore.

(Draco waited for her for months before finally giving up.)

She spent all of her free time locked up in her dormitory room until Padma Patil told her about Dumbledore’s Army. She joined them to spite him. She didn’t even know if he would care. She joined them anyway.

(Draco Malfoy wanted to talk to her but he never saw an opening. She was always with her friends when he saw her. He threw the worst fit in recorded history in the privacy of the Slytherin common room when he found out about her involvement with the D.A.

CRAZY WITCH! WHAT WAS SHE THINKING!? JOINING THE RESISTANCE!

He gave no explanation to his friends.)

Now, she went to the Room of Requirements to train with the rest of the DA. She used her knowledge on Healing to tend to their wounds acquired from training or beatings from the Carrows.

(Draco knew each and every student affiliated with the DA. He tried to keep them out of trouble as much as his position as Head Boy allowed.

His friends have started to notice something was going on. They didn’t ask about it though. They have learned not to ask from last year.)

She stepped up when Luna disappeared and taught them to use ordinary spells as offensive or defensive spells, however they wanted to see it. Severing spell, reductor spell, exploding spell, fire-making spell. Spells with short incantations that could be used in battle to protect one’s self.

(Draco asked his personal elf, Daffy, to take care of Luna Lovegood and Garrick Ollivander while they stayed prisoner at Malfoy Manor.

His friends have caught on and started to use their positions as well to keep students out of trouble, especially those who were part of the D.A. They still didn’t ask questions, though.)

(Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe pretended to enjoy the Cruciatus Curse to get the assignments of performing them on students in detention. They did so because it was better that they did it than the Carrows.)

(Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode asked the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team to behave around other players and to not start fights with them.)

(Daphne Greengrass, Theodore Nott, and Pansy Parkinson sometimes turned a blind-eye on students breaking minor rules and only docked points when the situation was more serious, never giving them detention.)

She wondered if there will come a day that she’ll have to fight him herself.

(Draco Malfoy wondered if he could still fix things with his Ravenclaw witch.)

The day she dreaded most came when Harry Potter returned to Hogwarts one evening in May.

She lost count of how many she had fought, never stopping to think of who could be the people behind those masks. Her strategy was to injure her opponent’s wand hand so they couldn’t use spells against her anymore. Most of the time, she sliced their arms open. A few times, she ended up blasting their hands. And when she saw a flash of green light and Oliver Rivers, a fellow Ravenclaw, went down, she set the Death Eater responsible for it on fire.

She felt numb. She wondered if she’d survive the night.

When the Battle paused, she helped get the fallen bodies inside the Great Hall.

She wondered where Draco Malfoy was, whether he was safely away from the Battle or was he fighting for the other side.

(Draco hid in the Dungeons. He had no wand so he couldn’t fight. He hoped his witch was safe as he waited for the Battle to be finally over. Saint Potter better not fuck up.)

When she saw Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy screaming for their son in the midst of battle without wands in their hands, she couldn’t help but send protective shields their way. That was it. She had actually lost her mind. Protecting the Malfoys? Death Eaters? She wanted to laugh.

And when it was all finally over, she let herself drink a cold glass of water and heal the wounds she got from everything that happened that night. She was about to find a flat surface to sleep on when her eyes landed on him. He was standing between his parents, and they all looked out of place.

As she walked towards them, she wondered if she was doing the right thing.

She stopped in front of him and took her time in checking his condition. His clothes were full of dust and rubble and were torn in some places. Fortunately, he sustained no other injury aside from the mild abrasions on his face and his split lip.

(Draco waited in bated breath. She looked alright, exhausted, but alright. He wanted to cry because the three most important people to him were all in one place.)

He was already staring at her when she met his eyes. Swallowing thickly, she said, “I can heal your wounds.” She raised her wand and gestured towards his face. At his nod of assent, she set to work.

(He wondered if this was her way of showing forgiveness. Should he even consider that? Was he worthy? He thought not, but his witch stayed with him last year despite all the rumors going around, and maybe if he did one thing right, she might give him a chance?)

All was going well. She was entirely focused on his injuries. All was well. Until he placed a (warm) hand on the small of her back and said, “I’m sorry.”

(Father once told him that if he ever made his Mother upset, just hug her and apologize. His Mother, despite her outward demeanor, loved receiving hugs. He hoped his witch did too.)

She had just finished tending to the last of his wounds when he pulled her against him and caged her in his arms. She wanted to feel angry. She wanted to lash out for all the times he never answered her questions. But he was here now, here in Hogwarts, and they weren’t running, so that had to mean something, right?

Her eyes darted nervously to his parents. They stood to the side and watched on silently. Lucius Malfoy tried and failed to keep a straight face and Narcissa Malfoy’s eyebrows were twitching.

Her face flushed an angry red in mortification. She was about to pull away when Draco stepped back himself but kept an arm around her as he faced towards his parents, steering her in the same direction.

“Father, Mother, this is Sue Li.” A voice was screaming in her head to run, flee, escape from there because she had no idea what was happening right now. She didn’t know what to feel right now! There was a lump in her throat and her chest felt like it was seconds away from exploding. “I wouldn’t be here right now if not for her.”

Susanna Li was officially losing her mind. (And Draco was enjoying every second of it.)

She wondered if she could get away with it if she hexed his balls off right now. (Draco wondered if he was going too fast.)

“A pleasure to meet you, miss Li.” Lucius Malfoy greeted.

“Mister Malfoy, Missus Malfoy,” she croaked, “I’m glad the both of you are okay.”

“Of course we would be, you made sure of that, did you not?” Sue suddenly felt woozy, praying for the ground to swallow her whole.

Narcissa Malfoy had not just said that. There was no way they could have known it was her. “Draco, darling, we wouldn’t be here now as you are if not for your friend.”

“I—” She tried, she really did, to think of anything to refute her claim, but Sue was more exhausted than she thought she was (or really, she was just distracted by the arm still wrapped around her) because words failed her.

“Perhaps it’s best that we sit.” Draco pulled her towards a bench, taking a seat before pulling her on his lap.

Narcissa and Lucius paid them no heed and instead, helped themselves with food from the table nearby. As she tried to fight against Draco, squirming and glaring at him, Sue wondered if this was all a dream.

But Draco was here, with her, and he was smiling, and Sue thought nothing else mattered in that moment. So she finally stopped fighting, because this was what she had always been waiting for, for the War to be over, and for them to finally be allowed to enjoy this, whatever this is, and leaned against Draco, burying her face in the crook of his neck before wrapping her arms around him, because finally, finally, she could do this and not have to worry about the consequences anymore.

(Draco wondered if this was a dream, and if it was, he hoped he never had to wake up.)

[end.]

Hey hey hey I don’t know where this came from either! AHAHAHA

(Fic Masterlist)

#Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #Slytherin #Ravenclaw #Sue Li #Room of Requirements #Hogwarts #Lucius Malfoy #Narcissa Malfoy #hpminorcharnet #hprarepairnet #Draco x Sue #draco malfoy fanfiction #hpfic #hpfanfic

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absolutelynochillonlydeath · 3 years

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Garden Wraith

1. Aftershocks:

Over the wall and back again.

The soft flame of a lantern flickered and was blown out, now lying among the dead leaves and snow.

Walking deeper into the mist and snowflakes, they felt the cold surround them and the fog filling their heads cleared, water filling their lungs.

They shivered and shook, hacking out the water in their lungs as they desperately clawed their way up the muddy bank before collapsing, the darkness of exhaustion dragging them back down just as they caught a glimpse of their rescuers. It had taken every bit of energy he had to get them out of that lake, the cold seeping all the way down to his bones and to his soul, tugging it back to the place they had just escaped from. The smell of the lake and mud and an almost indescribable smell of what would only be described of as the dark clung to them as they were rushed to the hospital, but not as hard as he had clung to the tiny body in his arms.

Paramedics later told him how he hadn’t let go of his brother even when he had fallen unconscious and how brave he was to have not let his brother go through all of that. He didn’t feel like he deserved the praise and told them as much, but the adoring eyes from said younger brother soon stopped him. In the eyes of that child, even after all they had gone through, he was still the older brother that he admired deeply and that had gotten them out.

After being settled into their hospital beds, fussing nurses and serious doctors now out of the way, the boys experienced their mother’s hugs for the first time in what felt like a long time. And in a way, it was. They sunk into her warm embrace and the comfort she provided, feeling her love for them and both cried in her arms. The images and impressions from their experiences were still too fresh and the terror was still all too real for them. This lasted until they felt they could cry no more from relief and everyone was ushered out of the room for the night, the doctors keeping there for further monitoring, but they would be released in the morning. With that reassurance, their mother promised that she would return bright and early for them and they agreed, smiling at her softly.

Once alone in the hospital, the brothers turned to each other, tears in their eyes as they whispered about what they had gone through. They wanted to reassure themselves and each other so as not to think that had simply made it all up. The Unknown. The Beast. Beatrice. The Edelwood. Cloud City. Wirt almost dying. Greg’s deal. Greg almost dying. The escape. The lantern. The smaller boy held his frog close to him in a desperate bid for comfort.

“Wirt?” the younger asked.

“Yes, Greg?” the elder answered, trying to keep his voice from trembling, but was still hoarse from the previous tears.

“Is he gonna come back for us?” he asked quietly, his tiny body almost visibly trembling. The elder swallowed down the true terror he felt, his mind flashing back to the brilliantly shining arms that beckoned in the dark. But he shook his head to dislodge the image. They had vanquished that darkness. They had broken free and walked towards the light that was life. When they had awoken, Wirt’s first assumption was that he had had some sort of crazy fever dream while they had been drowning. It was a reasonable assumption considering all they went thought, but that illusion was shattered when he heard the sound of Lorna’s bell ringing inside of Jason Funderburker’s stomach. Not only that, but Greg was also spouting off the more lighthearted parts of their adventures rather than the darker parts that stuck vividly in Wirt’s own mind. Luckily, his parents wrote that off as just the overactive imagination of a child that just went through trauma, smiling and nodding to indulge the seven-year-old. Wirt wouldn’t know how to explain to their parents that their kids had been stuck in the quasi equivalent of Purgatory and had almost not made it back without being taken to a psychiatrist and possibly committed. Taking a breath, he blinked away the thoughts and shook his head.

“No, Greg. He’s gone and we’ll never see him again. We beat the Beast.” He reassured the younger and Greg let out a small, broken sob, sending a jolt of pain and shock through Wirt’s chest.

“I was so scared, Wirt. I…I thought…” he hiccupped and Wirt sat up immediately, concern creasing his brow. He had never seen his little brother like this. Sure, he had cried, he was only seven after all, but to see him sobbing in fear or pain or sadness wasn’t something he did. He was happy and carefree and everything that Wirt himself wasn’t. Maybe that was why he hated him for so long? He hated that Greg was so confident and friendly and people instantly warmed up to this sunshine child and his parents loved him unconditionally. And now, after everything that had happened, Wirt understood that too and lamented at how much of a horrible person he had been to his brother. How could it be that it was only as he was about to lose him that he realized how much Greg meant to him? He was lucky, incredibly lucky, that he learned this lesson before it was too late, and he vowed that he would never take advantage of that again.

With a slight huff from the ache in his bones, he untangled himself from the hospital sheets and padded over to the other bed, moving the frog to the other end of the mattress before sliding in and holding his brother tightly, rubbing his back in comfort.

“I know, Greg. I know. You were so brave to face him down like that and I’m so sorry I made you do that. I should have been better at leading the way out. I shouldn’t have lost hope and given up and I’m so sorry I failed you.” He whispered and hugged him softly, feeling his own tears threaten to spill over.

“What? Wirt, no! You made me the leader! It was my job to get you and Jason Funderburker out of there!” Greg cried quietly, nuzzling into his elder brother’s chest.

“No! None of this was your fault! You were a great leader! But I should have been good leader too. I was a bad one and got you hurt and I’m so sorry!” Wirt apologized, hugging the little body next to him. The image of Greg’s form slowly being trapped in the Edelwood made him tremble and he had to reassure himself with the feeling of the boy’s heartbeats beating beneath his fingertips.

“We’re out now and I promise that I’ll protect you. You’ll never have to see the Beast again. Not if I can help it.” Wirt whispered, taking comfort in the fact that Greg was calming down now, his trembling stopping and his sobs turning into small sniffles.

“Y-you promise?” Greg asked softly, eyes staring up at him. Wirt sighed softly and grabbed a forgotten object from the desk next to him, putting a small smile on his face.

“It’s a rock fact!” he whispered softly, playfully moving around the rock with a painted-on face. Luckily, that made the boy let out a small giggle and it filled Wirt with relief. There. A smile suited the child’s face much better than tears. And if it were up to Wirt, he would never have to see Greg cry about that again. From then on, he would be the best brother he could be and they would never have to experience something like the Unknown again

With their hearts settled and with the comfort the other brought them within reach, they fell themselves slip quickly into the arms of sleep, relief that it was all over now.

Sadly, that couldn’t be farther than the truth.

Over the next month, Wirt and Greg discovered that while they had left the Unknown, the Unknown hadn’t left them. At least, not completely. It had left them with a few souvenirs for their troubles that neither of them expected. On the whole, the remnants of it wasn’t all bad. For some reason, neither of them could be turned around as long as they were outside. They had discovered this when they had gone on a trip to their nearby park. Normally, they would have to keep a close eye on Greg who had a tendency to wander off and get lost, but he always came right back and when he didn’t and his mother panicked, Wirt always knew where to find him. It was like the forest itself was bending to his whim and sent a resonance into his soul as to where all things were within the forest. Greg described it as knowing where everything was in a dollhouse. It sent a tremor through the elder boy, but he resolutely pushed the fear back, excusing the occurrence as that he and Greg were just better at navigating through the forest now since they had spent so much time in it before. He had even joked with the younger boy as to how he had become an expert at Greg tracking and his brother laughed. It was a good reason and that was what he stuck with, trying to assure himself and Greg that there was nothing wrong and smiling a bit as Greg thought of how cool it was. It was a relief to know that they would never be lost in the woods again and Wirt tried to take comfort in that.

Another oddity that they boys noticed was that they now attracted animals to themselves, though the most common occurrences were the neighborhood and woodland animals. Frogs absolutely adored Greg and Jason Funderburker and it was amazing to see the amount of frogs that were on the lawn even when they really should be hibernating. The same couldn’t be said for Wirt. He seemed to attract birds. The most common, much to his embarrassment, was bluebirds, though more than that popped up including a few owls. Greg commented excitedly that maybe he was being invited to a wizarding school, to which Wirt rolled his eyes and tried to shoo them away. Stubborn bluebirds always ended up staying, though. Maybe Beatrice matched what she was after all? A few of them even reminded him of her when he attempted to shoo them away and they cast an unimpressed look his way, refusing to leave. Either way, these were things that Wirt could handle. It was harmless and altogether inconsequential to their daily lives. This was fine. It was even something fun to show off on occasion.

But then the dreams began, and Wirt felt his heart clench in terror.

As December rolled in and the holidays began, he closed his eyes in the comfort of his home, glad for the short reprieve and the time to spend doing nothing and fell asleep. School had been stressful as usual, but he was getting better at the whole “friends” thing. The Unknown, if nothing else, definitely taught him a few things about not being a pushover and talking to people better, including Sara and her group of friends. Or, well, they were his friends now too. After Halloween and after he was cleared from the hospital, she and him had talked about the tape he left her and about his feeling towards her. Sadly, she didn’t really see him that way, though she appreciated the tape, and asked if they could still be friends. It was a bit of a blow to Wirt’s pride, but he agreed. She was still nice and funny and sweet and made him feel comfortable about his interests. In turn, she introduced him to her friends and they all hung out now and got along with Greg as well. It certainly did wonders for his self-confidence and it was a bonus that none of them made fun of his poetry and even encouraged him to enter writing competitions and to try out for band of which a few of them were a part of. It was…nice, to have people he could trust and relate to. He even ended up talking to Jason Funderberker. The human, not the frog. He still found himself bristling around the boy occasionally, but the boy was harmless, albeit good at a lot of things and fit in well with their friend group. His life was going well and both he and Greg seemed happier for it, settling back into their normal lives even as the falling snow settled around them and reminded them of their escape from the dark forest.

However, as sleep released its hold on him and he opened his eyes again, he found that he had woken up in a familiar dismal forest, though it looked different than when he and Greg had left. The change didn’t help though and sent him into a spiral of panic as he begged for this all to be a dream, pinching himself repeatedly to try and wake himself up from this nightmare. It didn’t work and only served to throw him deeper into the pit of fear with the pain punctuating the all too real reality of the situation. The world blurred black around the edges of his vision and the colder wind fluttered through his clothes. Shaking from both the fear and cold, he saw that his clothes were his Halloween costume which vaguely struck his hazy mind as odd since that wasn’t what he was wearing when he went to bed. This shook him enough for him to be able to survey his surroundings, lungs still heaving, but when he looked around the snow-covered ground, a flickering light caught his eye.

There, sitting innocently in the mouth of the yawning, twisted hollow of an Edelwood tree, was a lantern. It flickered warmly within the vessel, almost taunting the teen.

There must always be a Beast in the Unknown.

A whisper. A fact. A promise. It flickered through his mind and that was it. Wirt felt the world tilt and the black overtook his vision. He woke up screaming for the first time since he and his brother returned, heart thundering and mind whirling. His breathing erratic and his vision dark, he breathed out slowly and saw his breath coming out in a cloud of ice. The room was almost frosted at first glance but disappeared when light was cast into the room.

“Wirt? Are you okay?” a small voice suddenly came from his door and he jerked his head to the entrance where a very tired looking Greg was rubbing his eyes, his other hand wrapping around his frog. Said frog also looked tired, but Wirt could have sworn it cast a worried look his way as well.

“I… I-I… Yeah. Y-Yeah, I’m fine…” Wirt croaked, the temperature slowly going back to what was normal.

“You sure, brother o’ mine?” Greg asked quietly, concern now taking over his soft, sleepy expression.

“Yeah, Greg. Just…just a nightmare. Go back to sleep.” He murmured reassuringly, though still a little breathless, and Greg hesitated before nodding, stepping out and closing the door behind him. With that, both boys lay down in bed, minds and hearts racing at their experience. Wirt tried his best to fall back asleep, hoping that he wouldn’t dream again while Greg could only stare at the ceiling, reeling and trying not to give in to fear. Wirt didn’t know it, but his eyes glowed in a similar way to the thing they feared the most. He wasn’t sure if his older brother knew yet and he didn’t know how to tell him if he didn’t.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, an older man stared in awe and horror as something that he had seen almost every day for many, many years and caused him many a headache along with a few nightmares changed before his eyes.

A single glyph on the cave wall, copied down meticulously in his notes, so out of place and seemingly unrelated to the rest of the symbols all bunched together was shifting and changing. In the previous month, he had noticed that the symbol had begun to blur around the edges. At first, he had thought that either he or his family had accidentally smudged it a bit. It wouldn’t be a surprise considering how old his notes were and how many of said family had handled the book, so he disregarded it and shelved his book again. But that wasn’t the only thing that had changed. A few days later when in his lab, he happened to glance over at his forgotten corkboard of notes and theories in the corner of the room and his heart leapt into his throat. That symbol had had its own little section when he had been studying it before dismissing it when nothing came of it. Looking at it now, though, all surfaces on which the symbol had been drawn on were smeared even worse than the one in his notes. Now he knew for a fact that something was going on. His family all knew that no one should touch his notes, even his brother and the man hadn’t even glanced that then through all the years of his absence, so he knew that this wasn’t their doing. The previous symbol was almost completely indiscernible and looked like it was shifting into something else. It worried him deeply since he knew that nothing like this had ever happened before. At least, not without some sort of outside interference and that couldn’t happen in his lab. He had fortified his home with everything he had against everything her could after the almost apocalypse not too long ago, so nothing unwanted should have been able to make it down to the basement without his knowledge. Nodding, he resolved to keep an eye on the symbol and hope that it meant nothing.

By the end of the month, the symbol had completely changed and the new shape that took its place filled his stomach with a sense of unease he hadn’t felt in a long time. He learned to trust his gut feelings like this and if the symbol changing by itself didn’t already concern him, then the feeling it gave off now absolutely left a pool of ice in his chest. Gathering up his courage, he walked upstairs to tell the rest of his family about his discovery and give some kind of warning. They would need to be watchful and wary of this new development. Nothing would endanger his family ever again.

Silently, the dark shape of a lantern filled the spaces on the papers, the center almost glowing brightly in mockery of a flame.

#over the garden wall #beast!wirt #gravity falls #GFxOTGW #Undecided ships

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buddyhollyscurls · 4 years

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“Romance and Coffee” - Story Excerpt

So about two weeks ago I mentioned that I had been reading a webtoon called Crumbs (It’s super cute and such a wholesome story y’all should definitely check it out). It has some magical elements and a big part of the story is the coffee shop where the products have magic spells - there’s a pastry called Romance and teas that provide Focus - and it inspired me to come up with a lil something something.The story I have in mind isn’t really a coffee shop romance kinda story but I have an excerpt that I hope y’all will enjoy!

In a building high above the sky, a fair, red head was watching over Martha. She grinned when she saw Martha enter the coffee shop.

She clapped her hands gleefully, “She made it,” Áine cheered, “Oh, and she looks so cute!”

Áine could barely contain her excitement, she was the goddess of love after all. Getting couples together was part of her life’s work.

All that was left was for the other part of the couple to get here and she could make the love commence. She tapped her foot impatiently - where was Greg?

She kept a close eye on Martha. The longer she saw her sitting there, the more worried she got. Finally, after Martha had checked her phone again for the third time with no news from Greg, Áine decided to move into action.

She marched down to her partners office at the end of the hall.

“What the hell, Enero?” She said as she barged in.

“Knock much?”

“Where the hell is your boy? He better not be standing up Martha.”

He nodded to his computer, “Relax, hippie. I’ve been keeping an eye on him. He’s on his way,” He rolled his eyes with a sigh, “Come on, I’ll show you on the Monitor.”

He motioned for her to follow him.

They walked back to the giant monitor Áine had been on.

“I was already watching on here. All I see is Martha sitting there. Waiting.”

Enero simply put his hand in front of her in a motion that meant to hold on.

“Oh, see, there he is,” He pointed to Greg as he appeared outside the shop, “Satisfied now?”

He started walking away without waiting for an answer.

“Hold on a second,” Áine said, “I need to see him go in first.”

Enero rolled his eyes and groaned, “Fine.”

He stood next to Áine and they both watched.

“He’s not going inside,” Áine said with her hands on her hips.

“He will, he will.”

Enero sounded confident but he was beginning to get nervous - not that he’d let Áine know, of course. But what was taking Greg so long? He was just standing there.

Come on, Greg, Enero thought silently to himself, you can do this. Just open the door and -

It was then they saw Greg taking out his phone to type a message. Maybe he was letting Martha know he was there? But suddenly he was walking away.

“What is he doing, what is he doing?” Áine said walking up and getting as close as she could to the Monitor. It looked like she was about to grab Greg and drag him back to the shop herself.

Suddenly she turned on Enero, “He left her!”

Enero put his hands up in surrender, “There has to be an explanation.”

“He ditched her! Come on, we have to check it out.”

Without a word she grabbed his hand and lead them back to the office.

Just my luck, Enero thought to himself. a soul mate project and I have to be stuck with the most annoying, bossy, intense, passionate -

His thoughts were interrupted when Áine looked up at him from her computer, “He - he changed their fate. We’ll have to take it up with... the SCALES.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, “God. Damn it, “ He let out a deep, long sigh, “Alright, fine. Come on, hippie. Let’s get this over with.”

They walked across the main lawn to another building. They looked up and saw the giant banner: SCALES

They looked at each other and rolled their eyes in unison. Every ethereal being hated having to go to the SCALES. Gods and goddess could live for millennia and none of it would go any slower than when they had to so inside this building. Some beings even believed they could FEEL their age on their body when they stepped inside.

“Let’s just hope its quick,” Enero said.

Áine scoffed, “Quick? In the SCALES? Your better off wishing for peace on Earth.”

Enero chuckled in spite of himself, “Come on, Red. Let’s get going.”

They walked up the steps when Enero turned to her, “At least we know what humans feel like when they have to go to the DMV,” He said with a grin and a shrug.

Áine laughed, “Look at you trying to be funny.”

They stepped inside and were greeted by a young dark haired fairy.

“Welcome to the Station for Celestial and Angelic Liege Equilibrium Satisfaction or SCALES for short. What can we do for you and your liege today?” The fairy spoke in such a monotone voice it was clear she lost her desire for customer satisfaction long ago.

“Yeah we need to talk to someone about our lieges,” Áine spoke up, “They changed their fates.”

“Ok, no problem. Just fill out this form and someone will get back to you.”

Enero asked, “And how long will that take?”

The fair replied, “It could take anywhere from 10 to 100 years. Maybe more. Depends on how many orders we gotta go through.”

“100 YEARS,” Áine said incredulously, “We don’t have that time!”

The fairy simply shrugged, “Sorry. Lot’s of channels to go through. Gotta file out the paperwork, wait for it to be processed, and then you get called for an appointment. But that’s only if the workers okay your paperwork.”

“Look,” Áine said in as level a voice as she could muster, “Is there ANY way you can help us out? I mean this is pretty important. Anyone you can talk to? Who’s in charge here?”

The fairy looked at her, “I can’t just let ANYONE walk into the manager’s office. She’s usually pretty busy. You need an appointment. My hands are tied.”

Áine started to protest, “But -”

The fairy looked at her and Enero could tell she was getting annoyed with Áine’s pushiness.

He put a hand on her shoulder, “Will you calm down? You’re not going to get anywhere by being overbearing.”

Áine opened her mouth in shock, “Well then you say something!”

“I will,” he winked at her, “Watch this, hippie.”

He sauntered up to the fairy and Áine rolled her eyes.

“Hey, listen,” he said with his elbows on her desk and leaning forward, “I’m sorry about my partner. She can be a bit much.”

The fairy seemed unaffected, “Happens all the time.”

“I’m sure. This job can’t be easy. The thing is though, we were paired up for a soul mate project. And it seems to have gone sour. We’d really appreciate it if you could help us get some answers.”

“Look like I told your partner there’s channels to go through.”

“I know, I know. And I respect that. Truly, how do you think I feel? Working with a temperamental goddess like her?” He said glancing back at Áine, who was able to hear the entire conversation

“Real nice,” she said aloud.

Enero pretended not to hear her and continued, “She’s got no respect for rules and procedures, always barging in, being loud and abrasive. She’s nothing like... you. Calm, collected... pretty.”

It was then the fairy looked up, “Oh, I don’t know,” she said shyly, “She’s pretty, too.”

“Yeah, don’t get me wrong she is, but I’d much rather work with someone like you. What’s your name, anyway?”

She smiled at him, “Fay.”

“Fay,” he grinned, “Nice to meet you. I’m Enero,” he sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and turned to Áine, “Well, flower-child, you heard the little lady. Nothing we can do. It’s best we just fill out the paperwork and wait.”

He reached over and grabbed the files. Slowly, he grabbed a pen.

Before he began writing Fay said softly, “Well, maybe I can help you out. This one time. Just because your working on a soul mate project and all that.”

“We’d really appreciate it,” he smiled at her, “Thank you, Fay.”

She looked away shyly, “I’ll ask my manager if she can squeeze you in.”

She hurried off and Enero smirked at Áine, “And that, hippie, is how you get it done.”

“Smooth,” Áine said dryly, “Real smooth.”

“What’s gotten your crops in a dry spell?”

She folded her arms, “I am the goddess of love. I don’t like seeing you toy with someone’s feelings like that.”

“Oh, come on. Just a little harmless flirting. It got us what we wanted. Or could it be a little jealousy I’m seeing?”

“Yeah, right.”

“Is that what it is, Red? Sad because I never throw some of that sweet stuff your way?”

Áine scoffed, “Please, again, I’m the goddess of love. I have no problem finding a man to give me a little sweetness.”

She returned his smirk. Enero blinked at her. He had only been teasing her. He didn’t think she was actually jealous. And he wasn’t blind. Áine was a beautiful goddess. Of course she’d have no problem getting affection from anyone. But her actually admitting it gave him a sour feeling in his stomach. He decided it was only because their relationship was supposed to be strictly professional. So he didn’t need to know details like that. Or so he told himself.

He cleared his throat and they stood in silence until Fay returned.

“My manager said she can squeeze you in for a few minutes.”

“Great,” Enero said, “Thanks a lot, Fay. You really helped us here.”

They followed Fay to a nearby office. The walls were bare and beige, the seats and carpet were a matching gray color. It was in a word: dull. Just what they’d expect inside the SCALES.

They spotted a plump fairy with graying blonde hair sitting at her (dull) brown desk.

“Hi,” Enero greeted her, “Thank you so much for your time.”

“Welcome,” she smiled politely at them, “I’m Hada. Please, have a seat. What seems to be the emergency?”

“Well, it’s like this,” Áine began as they sat down, “We’re working on a soul mate project, only something went wrong, and we they changed their fates.”

Hada nodded, “I see. And what exactly went wrong?”

“One of the lieges,” Enero started slowly, “Didn’t follow through.”

Hada considered this thoughtfully, “Oh, my. And which of you did the pairing?”

Áine raised her hand, “I did. It’s sort of my specialty.”

Hada turned to Enero, “And that means you weighed their fates?”

He nodded, “I did.”

“And you left no room for error?”

“Absolutely none,” Enero said firmly.

“You’re absolutely sure?”

“Positive. I - I used both my heads. I saw their beginnings and endings.”

Enero could feel Áine’s eyes on him. They hadn’t worked together before but Enero knew he was well-known around the building for being... delicate about his abilities. Everyone knew he refused to use both heads unless the situation was absolutely crucial to him. He mustered the courage to glance at Áine. She was watching him with an expression he couldn’t read. They locked eyes for a moment and she gave him a soft smile.

Hada glanced between the two of them, observing them with a curious look of her own.

She cleared her throat to make her presence known again, “Yes,” she said bringing their attention back to her, “Well, it could be maybe they weren’t compatible in other underlying aspects.”

Áine asked, “How can that be?”

Hada shrugged, “Humans can be fickle. Uncertainty scares them. They have trouble trusting their own hearts and intuition. Most only trust what they can see, or what has proven facts. They can’t fathom our realms, or the inexplicable things that take place in the universe. They can be calculating to a fault and it makes it harder for them to believe in what what we do. They can’t see it themselves so it doesn’t exist, even if the universe lays it out in front of them. Humans are blind in that sense.”

“Maybe Martha just wasn’t Greg’s type,” Enero said nonchalantly.

“Well, not necessarily -” Hada began.

Áine interrupted her “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she said with a hand up to Enero, “What’s wrong with my Martha? Your boy is the one who ditched her.”

“Maybe it’s like what she said. They weren’t compatible. Maybe he wasn’t that into her.”

“But that wasn’t what I -” Hada tried explaining, but it seemed they were no longer aware of her presence in her own office.

“He wasn’t into her?! Please, Greg should’ve considered himself lucky that Martha noticed him!”

“You have something against my liege?”

“Do you have something against mine?”

“No! Martha’s a lovely girl. Just... maybe a better choice could have been available, that’s all.”

“Oh! So somehow this is all MY fault!” Áine got up then, “Listen, you arrogant, conceited, over-glorified... prick! You think you can make a better pairing? I’d like to see you try!”

Enero stood up, “You know what, hippie? I think that’s a great idea.”

Áine narrowed her eyes on him. Enero stared at the dark amber color of her eyes and couldn’t help thinking he’d never seen them so intense before. He felt there was a fire burning behind them that excited him - or at least it would have if he wasn’t royally pissed himself.

“You really want to try to make a match against a goddess of love,” Áine said moving towards him, stopping when they were only inches apart, her voice was dark, calm, even, and ready to challenge him, “Then bring it on, January.”

Drawing out his name in mock emphasis - he was well aware she knew he hated any other variation of his name - he glared her down.

Enero scoffed, “Fine. From now on, we work on this project separately. We’ll find our own matches for our own lieges and see who they choose.”

“Fine by me.”

Enero stuck out his hand, “May the best god win.”

Áine shook his hand roughly and stormed out of the office. Enero followed with equal force. Hada, who had been silent and completely forgotten about, blinked to herself and shook her head in amusement. She had been watching them closely since they arrived and it made her realize that sometimes gods and goddesses could be just as blind as humans to what was in front of them.

#me #personal #my writing #story excerpt

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wastedpoets · 2 years

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Brushed my teeth for the first time in about two weeks. Remember, progress starts small, my loves <3

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ty-talks-comics · 4 years

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Best of DC: Week of February 26th, 2020

Best of this Week: Batman: Curse of the White Knight Book Seven - Sean Murphy, Matt Hollingsworth and AndWorld Design

Batman is Dead.

The last issue of Curse of the White Knight gave us the last in the story of Edmond Wayne and revealed that the man that Bruce thought was his ancestor, turned out to have been the family to Jean-Paul Valley instead. Bakkar of the Order of St. Dumas killed Edmond after betraying and stealing Gotham from under him, thus assuming the name of Wayne and forming the city to his vision. With this newfound information, Batman has found himself a man with a lineage of thievery, especially after finding out that Gotham’s Elite have been funding their crime through Wayne Enterprises.

This issue begins with a somber flashback to a moment before the funeral of the Waynes. Bruce cries and blames himself for their deaths because he wanted to see The Mask of Zorro. He had always wanted to use the rapiers that his father kept on display and figured if he learned to use them from the movie, then he would be able to impress his father enough. Alfred, always so caring, tells him that if he’s able to go to the funeral, then he can hold a rapier. He then vows to teach young Bruce how to use it for the next danger he may face.

Matt Hollingsworth colors this flashback in a cool blue hue, emphasizing both the sadness and the hopefulness of the moment. Murphy portrays Alfred as being caring and shows that even with the tears, Bruce shows his ability to rise up and become the hero that people need. Though the rapier is far too large for his kid body, Bruce holds it firm in hopes of protecting Gotham in the future.

As we cut back to the modern day, Bruce faith in himself and his dreams of becoming Gotham’s knight are shaken. He was never a Wayne by blood and he sees himself as part of Gotham’s cuse. Many would be right to see him as such given Gotham’s crime initially started off as petty stuff and eventually escalated into battles with The Joker, Two-Face and others with Gotham being caught in the crossfire every time. He didn’t even know that his company was being used by criminals because of his singular focus on fighting crime.

Murphy draws Batman as being tired and ashamed of himself for only just now understanding Jack Napier’s vision and why Batman is just as bad for Gotham as The Joker was. His expressions are melancholic, Murphy makes excellent use of shadow to try to hide some of his shame and body language to make him look like an old man that’s been sitting on a lawn chair for eighty hard years. Harleen Quinzel acts as his voice of reason during his pity party and actually shows concern for him.

Harleen has been a central character in this world since the very first issue of the original White Knight and that doesn’t change here though her own personal arc is over. The last issue saw her do her best to bring Jack Napier out of Joker’s mind for one last time for information and to save her children. In the end, she had to shoot Joker in the head to let Jack rest and rid herself of the monster that had been plaguing her for years. She still finds herself at Batman’s side as one of his most trusted friends.

Bruce still has one thing that he can do to make sure that Jean-Paul doesn’t get away with his crimes and Harley convinces him that Gotham will forgive his transgressions like they did for the former Joker in Napier. At the same time, Azrael is still out there and Murphy and Hollingsworth give readers an AMAZING shot of the villain in his updated Knightfall costume. He grabs onto the nds of his cape as he soars backwards into his hideout. The lights of the city contrast with his blacks, yellows and blues to just give us a pretty damn good shot of how powerful he feels in the suit.

This is contrasted by the next few set of panels where he’s puking out of his mask after escaping from the GTO (Gotham Task Oppression Unit). This version of Azrael has been diagnosed with terminal cancer and as such needs medicine to live and suppress the symptoms. With little dialogue and some telling panels, we see that Azrael has empty bottle after empty bottle of pills in his cabinet. He’s starting to look a bit more gaunt than the first time we saw him. He’s withering away slowly and only has one more pill to spare for his coming battle with Batman.

I love the details that Murphy and Hollingworth add here. There’s blood in his vomit and it maintains after he pukes on his leg. His ribs are starting to show and we’ve seen just how jacked he was in the issues prior. His hair doesn’t appear as long as it did, even pulled into a bun/ponytail and there’s just something so final about the “shit” he gives after finding out that he only has one more pill left. In that singular moment, his mistakes come back to haunt him after killing his, admittedly, treacherous employer.

Soon after, Bruce makes amends to Barbara Gordon after inadvertently causing the accident that almost saw her completely lose use of her legs and effectively getting her dad killed. Barbara has always been resilient and we all feared that that issue #5 would be yet another Killing Joke, but here she is, using crutches to try walking again. The scene takes place during the bright Gotham day and this signals a brighter future for their relationship.

Bruce had always gone to Jim Gordon for advice on what route he should take, but without him, Bruce is missing one of his moral compasses. Barbara is the next best person because she has always been smarter than her father and Bruce has a ton of guilt to get off of his chest and Barbara handles everything like the mature adult that she is. She doesn’t blame Bruce for what happened, even though she said horrid things in anger, but can anyone blame her? She cries at the mention of her father and embraces Bruce, encouraging whatever his decision may be.

Of course, with this being the penultimate issue in this particular storyline, it only makes sense that we see a grand revelation come out of it. Murphy and Hollingsworth set the stage with Hollingsworth coloring the afternoon skies of Gotham with an orange-red kind of hue. We see various shots of different places in Gotham from public libraries to the streets themselves as Batman appears on the giant monitor of Gotham Square. Everything feels hot and sort of uncomfortable.

Bruce gives his appreciation and thanks to the people of Gotham for allowing him to serve as their protector and we continue to get these various shots of people. There’s auto mechanics watching the broadcast in their shop, people in a bar and kids watching on a cell phone with their dog. Murphy uses this to illustrate that Gotham is far larger than we think it is and that there are many people that Batman has saved from every corner of his beloved city, but he hasn’t done enough yet. So what’s the final step?

Batman reveals himself to be Bruce Wayne and dismantles WayneCorp.

Bruce finally becomes the knight that Gotham needs by giving back to the people. By destroying his company, he gives back to the people of Gotham by giving all of his money to nonprofits, schools, homeless shelters etc. It’s everything that Batman detractors have been saying Bruce should have done for ages. In doing so, he offers Gotham a better future than he could have as Batman, but he only asks them to stay off the streets of Gotham for one night while he takes care of the Azrael business. Murphy shows Bruce holding his cowl one last time, standing tall by his heroic decision.

Back at the GCPD, he gets lambasted by Commissioner Montoya for going off and doing his own thing again, but counters by saying that he trusts in the people of Gotham and they all formulate their battle plans. It’ll be his last time taking the reigns before he turns himself in as well, so he might as well make sure that everything goes according to plan.

As Montoya tells Batman that Azrael destroyed most of the other Batmobiles in his assault on bruce in Book Four (I think), she reveals that one survived and I see that Sean Murphy is a Batfan after my own heart. The Batmobile that survives is the badass one from the Animated Series, what this book is supposed to be the “sequel” to. It's sleek and well designed thanks to Murphy’s own love of cars. From the presentation, readers can tell that this is one of the pages he took serious time with as the Batmobile is given so much respect.

After a short conversation with Dick about what Bruce is going to do when he catches Azrael, Batman drives away, leaving his sidekicks concerned about his state of mind and we get one last splash page of Batman standing in the middle of Gotham Square without his cowl and the sky is a blood red. The Batmobile looks sexy in the background and this was all just so amazing.

Sean Murphy is a comic book treasure. His art and his writing truly made this an experience and a Batman story worth standing the test of time. It had the action, the drama, the stylish sequences and several twists and turns that make a story great. He’s made Batman his own in a grungy style much like how Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo have in a heavy metal manner. Murphy’s Gotham is a masterpiece in crustpunk with social problems that Batman’s always had in the periphery of his character and every issue has been better than the last.

Matt Hollingsworth brings it to life with his perfect colors; Whether they’re making use of the blues of Gotham’s clear skies or the light purples of the night sky, Hollingworth makes Gotham look distinct no matter the time of day. Scenes are given hues to match the tone of the pages whether they’re full of intense anger or incredible sadness, Matt Hollingsworth sets the mood no matter what

I really enjoyed this series, but I can’t wait for the next and final issue of it just to see that confrontation between Batman and Azrael. It’s been a long time coming and the fallout from Bruce’s decision as well… it’ll be too much, but yeah High recommend!

Also, support me on Patreon:

patreon.com/TyTalksComics

#batman #curse of the white knight #azrael #barbara gordon #harleen quinzel #sean gordon murphy #sean murphy #matt hollingsworth #dc comics #dc black label

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stevenuniversallyreviews · 5 years

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Episode 117: The Zoo

“Can you blame ‘em?”

Every Western story about a return journey can be compared to The Odyssey if you squint hard enough, and while Steven’s rescue of Greg has already featured poor decisions and a cyclops, The Zoo is our most obvious reference point to a trial of Odysseus: in this case, the Lotus Eaters.

Does it make sense that such a small population could genetically reproduce this long? Let alone that distinct races would still be a thing in this inevitably incestuous family tree spanning millennia? Does it make sense that everyone here is roughly the same age, with barely any old people or children? Or that they’re speaking English, a language thousands of years younger than the last human abducted for the Zoo before Greg? Of course not, this is a nonsensical system. But if the choice was eleven minutes going over hyper-realistic minutia of how this system works (most likely, these folks are divided into small packs and we’re just seeing one of many groups) versus an interesting fable about free will and the conflict between hedonism and responsibility, I’m good ignoring the massive leaps required for the Zoo to hold logical water.

A thorny ethical question presents itself here: if the Zoomans are eternally happy and safe, to the point where they don’t understand the concept of “hurt,” is it such a bad thing that they lack free will? To us, freedom is such an obviously good thing that its value is taken as a given, but all choice does here is make the Zoomans unhappy for the first time since an incident long ago enough to be the stuff of legend. This is a group of people whose culture predates Ancient Greece and is still going strong, outlasting any human civilization that’s ever existed on Earth by an impossibly huge degree, so what right do we have to think our moral code is superior to theirs?

The Zoo is dystopia by way of Dora the Explorer, a perfect prison that has babied its inhabitants for so many lifespans that they can’t even fathom disrupting the system. A friendly voice tells them what actions to take to have fun (Smell the flowers! Go to bed! Swiper, no swiping!) and the Zoomans obey without hesitation; they are essentially to humans what modern dogs are to wolves, a domesticated and perpetually juvenile version of the original model. But they certainly aren’t a different species in that way (dogs diverged from wolves genetically tens of thousands of years ago, rather than a paltry 5,000); we see that the Zoomans are quickly capable of making choice when the idea is planted, but they choose to listen to the little voice. Is it ethical to give them the information to make a more informed choice? My gut says yes, but that’s based on a moral code developed by a society that, like English, is much younger than Zooman society.

The second question that arises from the first is the morality of Pink Diamond’s actions. From a Gem perspective, it’s a no-brainer: free will isn’t a societal good to them, so even if Earth wasn’t destroyed as originally planned when the Zoo was built, bringing people to a paradise whose only cost is freedom is an obvious win. This matters a lot for Blue Diamond, who’s still patronizing in her “saving” of Greg but clearly means well by her own alien metrics of good and bad. And in that way, on first viewing, Pink’s behavior becomes far less ambiguous than “evil alien kidnaps humans.” If she’s anything like Blue, she considered it a favor, and that alone characterizes her more than anything else we know at this point.

In retrospect, the Zoo is more clearly a half-measure taken when Pink was trying and failing to stop the colonization she began. This conflict wasn’t short, and it’s great to see evidence of Pink trying smaller ways to help humans before realizing that more drastic actions were necessary, rather than her just jumping straight to full revolution. The fact that the Zoo is still a thing after her permanent shift to Rose Quartz, however, is one of many indicators of Pink’s childish selfishness. She didn’t release the humans she abducted, just as she didn’t think of how her faked murder might have more violent consequences than a freed Earth. I call the selfishness childish because it comes not from malice, but seemingly not knowing any better. This is the self-centeredness of somebody who’s never had any reason to not be self-centered, which doesn’t absolve the harm she causes, but makes her more interesting than a true monster.

While the Gem perspective is clear, Steven provides an ardent opposition to the concept of paradise without choice. At no point is he tempted by a life free of worries, valuing his ties to an existing life despite its many warts. And while Greg shows a few hints of falling for the Lotus Eater trap in his more relaxed attitude towards captivity, it’s crucial that his support of Steven trumps the comfort of this new reality; an entire episode about Greg measuring an easy life versus his son’s happiness, while in keeping from the weird shitty version of Greg we met in House Guest, would’ve been ruinous to his actual character. He’s still chill, and encourages Steven to chill as well for his own well-being, but never goes further in trying to stay at the Zoo; we even know that he tried to escape before Steven arrived.

While their long-awaited reunion is sweet, my favorite Steven'n’Greg moment is the realization that amethysts will likely arrive in response to pain. Steven’s insistence that Greg hit him comes from both impatience and the knowledge that he can take a punch, but Tom Scharpling perfectly captures how insane this sounds to Greg. Even though he’s physically weaker than his superhumanly powerful son, Greg’s willing to get hurt in his kid’s place. And still, Steven hesitates, because neither of these people wants to hit the other despite the circumstances. Finally, after Steven’s punch sends Greg flying, I appreciate his idea to try punching him again; to me, it’s representative of how much Steven thinks of his dad, because he just assumes this middle aged dude is tough enough to shrug off such a blow.

The two lead Zooman representatives sorta blend together, but I think that’s the point: in a society where conformity is the only option, everyone’s bound to act similarly. They’re both portrayed well enough to avoid boring tropes associated with characters like this (we don’t get airy hippies or droning disciples): Cristina Vee’s Jay-Ten and Lamar Abrams’s Wy-Six are delightfully dopey and just a little bit self-superior when things they find obvious are a mystery to our heroes. Vee doubles as the Little Voice, which is correctly played without a hint of menace, and while Abrams has already proven himself as Buck Dewey, I’m impressed by his ability to play a fully different character just as well (he’s also Garbanzo, who also sounds distinct, but he only says his own name so there’s not much room to measure differences).

While I have no idea whether the pun is intentional, I am all about these people raised beyond the stars being spacier than our more grounded Earthlings. Still, their one-note nature means that my favorite Zooman moments are actually Steven’s reactions to them. His quick decision to escape after being told to do “the bits” bit is low key hilarious, as is his bewilderment at their tiny splashes. These aren’t people that are going to make jokes or clever observations on their own, at least in a way that can match what their terrestrial counterparts can accomplish, but at least I never feel bored with the routine in a way that detracts from the episode.

In contrast to the mundane hedonism of daily life, the Choosening is just the sort of cultish jargon that one might expect from a society like this, and I love the familiarity implied in Greg’s world-weary comment that there’s always a catch with this sort of thing. We have no way of knowing how arbitrary the Choosening is, but considering Greg gets chosen Choosened right after arriving, it certainly seems random. While arranged marriage is obviously a thing on Earth as well, the power dynamics on the Zoo are more akin to forced marriage. But even this is colored by an earthly glimpse at an alien culture, because we don’t have any societies with an all-powerful overclass and a genuinely content and cared-for underclass. Is it really forced marriage if the parties involved are happy about it? Even if this is due to them being happy about everything that happens in this society? Are they really capable of true happiness when they’ve experienced no alternate emotions?

This is where the theme of choice versus happiness comes to a head, and it’s so important that we don’t get a tidy ending where free will is presented as a liberating alternative to a peaceful life of following orders. Choices allow for more meaningful happiness, but can lead to sadness as well; while this might seem obvious, I’m always down for children’s media explaining why negative emotions can be okay sometimes (see: Inside Out) and that a life free of pain isn’t necessarily good. It would be disingenuous for real choice to be presented without backlash to a society without free will, and we don’t even get to see how the situation resolves in the original series.

The amethysts march in to help, and Michaela Dietz wonderfully captures gruff warriors helping with emotional wounds. But we end the episode with the Zoomans in turmoil, abandoned by our heroes without a second thought. Based on how the system works, all it takes to reject the Little Voice is just deciding not to listen, and it hadn’t been done before because the Zoomans wanted to listen; again, it’s a tricky situation, because perhaps they do have free will and have chosen obedience. .

As in the last few episodes, we get a cliffhanger ending, but The Zoo bounces back from Gem Heist by having an actual complete story within the chapter. Steven and Greg make a meaningful impact on the Zoomans, but whether it’s for better or worse is up in the air. Our heroes gain the option to eat lotuses in peace for the rest of their days, but choose freedom instead. And they reinforce their bond by sticking together through it all. Now they just have to escape a space station crawling with Gems and find their missing friends and fly home, and that will be all!

Future Vision!

The Zoomans finally return in Steven Universe Future, where their utopia has been expanded to include the Famethyst and Holly Blue. They may be running the station, but they choose to live the way they always have. They’re also petty as hell, which is an excellent development for their passive society.

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

While I appreciate the moral questions prompted by The Zoo, and enjoy the episode itself, it’s not quite something that I’d say I love. There’s nothing I find wrong with it, but it lacks a certain amount of oomph that might make it worthy to stand alongside the likes of Alone at Sea or Maximum Capacity in my rankings; this is a high concept episode that has decent character work, but ratio of focus on concept to character doesn’t align with what I love about Steven Universe.

It’s weird to put it in the same category as Gem Heist, because I like The Zoo a lot more, but this is what I get for not having way too many categories. Enh, I can live with it.

Top Twenty

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

Last One Out of Beach City

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Mindful Education

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Earthlings

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Bismuth

Steven’s Dream

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Chille Tid

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Catch and Release

When It Rains

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Beta

Back to the Moon

Kindergarten Kid

Buddy’s Book

Gem Harvest

Three Gems and a Baby

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Bubbled

Adventures in Light Distortion

Gem Heist

The Zoo

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

Know Your Fusion

Future Boy Zoltron

No Thanks!

6. Horror Club 5. Fusion Cuisine 4. House Guest 3. Onion Gang 2. Sadie’s Song 1. Island Adventure

#the zoo #steven universe #su #steven universally #review

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mimik-u · 5 years

Text

Flower Child (Chapter 12): Monday

AO3

Monday morning found Yellow Diamond in her study, watching nothing as dawn slowly drew itself around her like a pinkish cape. The shadows under her eyes pooled in the soft light, and the crow’s feet edging them became stark, black, defined. (God, when was the last time she’d had a full night’s sleep? When was the last time she hadn’t stayed awake—fighting and chasing away and courting sordid demons? When was the last time she’d seen a proper bed?) Even still, she was already impeccably dressed for it to not even be seven yet. Her golden hair was swept upwards in a coiffure sharp enough to cut yourself on, and she wore a black suit in the matter-of-fact way that the sky wore the sun. Her heels were perfectly practical (thank you very much), her face meticulously painted on.

Put together but not quite, she stared at nothing.

Maybe the wall.

Maybe the minuscule crack in the door.

And could not bring herself to think about the three meetings she had today, so consumed by the thought of Blue.

Blue was getting out today.

She would assume the stage.

She would get into a town car and not go to the cemetery where their dead daughter lay.

The world would spin on, and for once—for the first time in four years—her wife would spin with it.

It made Yellow so damn happy.

And it made her so damn sad at the same time.

Blue was moving… not on, never on… but forward.

And it wouldn’t be because of Yellow.

She took an impulsive drag of her coffee and half-hoped it would scald her.

(She hadn’t been enough. They hadn’t been.)

When the analog clock on the wall unwillingly dragged her into the next minute, the CEO finally slid her golden gaze from the door to the intercom panel propped next to her lamp. She pressed one of the buttons, eliciting a crackling noise at first, before the line was abruptly snagged by a voice that was equal parts panic and equal parts sleep: “Yes, Mrs. Diamond?!”

“Did I wake you?” Of course, Yellow knew that she had, but she at least had enough courtesy to feign otherwise.

“No, ma’am!” Poppy gamely lied. “What can I do for you?”

“I need you to do a favor for me,” she said, biting her lip. She could have added please to let the maid know that she was serious, but reticence was this particular woman’s both strength and weakness.

“Anything, Mrs. Diamond!”

“You can knock that off now. We’ve already established who I am.”

“Of course, Mrs—” Poppy caught herself with a little squeak. “O-of course.”

Yellow sighed—quite dramatically in proportion to the circumstances really—but pressed on anyway. “I need you to call up to the flower shop and send an arrangement to someone in Empire City Hospital. I’ll leave my credit card on the desk.”

It wasn’t a particularly unusual request. Yellow was sending flowers and champagne bottles to business associates all the time. Even through the staticky transmission, she could hear Poppy scribbling these directions down on paper.

The scratching stopped. “And whom shall I direct the flowers to, ma’am?”

She inhaled sharply.

Oh, hell and shit.

She only knew the kid’s name and approximate age (older than five but certainly younger than twenty).

“His name is Steven,” she sniffed haughtily (to disguise her ignorance, of course). “Young boy. You should be able to locate him.”

“A-ah, yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Yellow leaned back in her chair and looked quite pleased with herself until she just as suddenly didn’t; with a sudden thought, her dark brow depressed into a frown over her eyes. (When was the last time that her mouth and eyes and chest unbent in a smile? When was the last time worry didn’t transform her entire physiognomy, didn’t make her appear ten years older—ten years more grim and demanding and cold?)

“And, Poppy?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Make it anonymous.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

ii.

Monday morning found Poppy on the verge of hysterics as she called three different extensions in Empire City Hospital trying to inquire after a sick boy named Steven.

No, she didn’t know his last name!

No, she couldn’t tell you a room number!

No, she most certainly was not pranking them!

Gah!

iii.

Monday morning found Priyanka Maheswaran nursing her third tumbler of coffee as she surveyed Steven’s guardians from over its rim. In Room 11037, they stood in the empty space where Steven’s bed had once been. The technicians had just taken him down for a couple of scans for UNOS, but even though the five adults in the room objectively knew that, the absence of the boy unnerved the air. Abandoned wires spilled across the scorchingly white floor. The heart monitor on the wall was a flat black, leering at them with its emptiness.

Pearl’s hair seemed to be positively standing on edge.

They were all in shambles—each of them, in their own ways.

The doctor gathered herself into some semblance of professionalism and half-wondered if such posturing was but an exercise in pointlessness. Surely, these people could see through the cracks, the holes in her carefully constructed facade.

Surely, they knew that she cared.

“I’m going to be blunt with you—”

Amethyst cut across her with a wry smile that did not quite reach her eyes. “You always are, Dr. M.”

“True,” Priyanka conceded with a sigh, “and so I see no reason to be anything else with you all.”

She was as sharp as one of her surgical instruments and equally as direct.

Greg’s eyes bore her down, were haunting in their worn sockets.

It was his damn child.

It’d once been his damn girlfriend.

(At the funeral, he pressed Steven against his chest and wept in place of a eulogy.)

“Even with dialysis,” she said, clutching her cup like it was a lifeline, “and even with the extra support we’re giving him here in the hospital, we’re still racing against the clock. His heart is working harder to compensate his kidneys, and his lungs are working harder to compensate his heart.”

He was dying.

That was the cold and hard truth.

Priyanka did not say it, for she didn’t need to—the unspoken words landed in the room anyway, striking precisely, like bullets, the carnage written all over their faces. Pearl’s hands on her stomach were gored with it. There was a third eye on Garnet’s head where her troubled brow met in the middle.

(At the funeral, Pearl had to be lightly pulled away from the casket. She stared at nothing. She said nothing. She stared at Rose.)

(At the funeral, people whispered that Garnet was callous for looking so stoic, so put together, so tearless. They didn’t notice her hands, how they trembled by her sides.)

“Ya gotta say something, Doc,” Amethyst said when the silence got to be too much, when the room started to feel too empty. The air around her was frenetic, charged. She looked liable to be both the predator and the prey trapped in a corner. “That’s what’s wrong. Now what’s the solution?”

(At the funeral, Amethyst cried openly, viscerally, and yet, still found the strength to pull Pearl away from the casket, to squeeze Garnet’s hand, to hold Steven when Greg had to bury his face in his hands.)

(At the funeral, Priyanka made herself notice all of these little things, forced herself to carve them into her memory, one scalpel incision at a time, as both a punishment and a reminder. Somehow, someway, she could have done better, could have been better. Moving forward, she would, dammit. She would never attend another funeral like this.)

“The solution, of course,” she sighed, “is a viable kidney, and I know you don’t want to hear that. I know that it’s the same thing I said last time and the time before that, but dammit, that’s what it’s going to take.”

If anger seared the edge of this proclamation, it was not an anger intended for the broken people standing across from her. It was for the woefully inadequate transplant system where eighteen people across the world died every day because they couldn’t get the organ they so desperately needed. It was for the unfair fact that neither Greg nor Amethyst nor Garnet nor Pearl were matches for the boy they would all give their lives to protect. No hesitation. No blinking. It was for the incredulous idea—ludicrous, absurd, preposterous!—that even if they did find a kidney, that this family wouldn’t have the means to pay for it because health care was so screwed up in this damn country.

If Priyanka was angry, it was for the utter insanity of it all.

The madness.

There was no rationality in a fourteen-year old dying.

“It’s so perverse,” Pearl whispered into the silence, “that we’re here again.”

It was a familiar stage, a familiar scene.

Just someone else in the bed that had once contained a woman with kind eyes and a warm smile—a brilliant, compassionate heart.

Garnet looked away, clenched her fists by her sides.

“It has to end differently, though,” Greg said, a plea in his voice and his eyes. It was scratched across his entire body. It was a scar. “I… I can’t… do that again. I can’t lose him.”

It was wonder that he didn’t shatter where he stood, that they all didn’t. Amethyst reached up and placed a hand on his back.

(This was a familiar image, too.)

(Hell, it was a memory—simply transplanted into the here and now.)

“Greg… all of you—” She began and abruptly stopped. Priyanka Maheswaran was as sharp as one of her surgical instruments and equally as direct, but for once in her life, she didn’t want to be. She wanted to tell this family that their kid was going to make it, that they’d find him a kidney, that the surgery would go well, that love and joy and peace would win at the end of the damn day. She wanted to give them hope; she desperately wanted a modicum of the sensation for herself.

But what could she say?

What could she possibly fucking say?

“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice cracking, “but this is all I have.”

iv.

Monday morning found Connie Maheswaran unfolded across the backseat of her dad’s cruiser, scrolling through another medical journal, only occasionally stopping to jot down notes in a tab-marked, dog-eared, well-worn, well-loved composition book. When he wasn’t pretending to be interested in his heretofore very boring stakeout, her father’s wire-rimmed glasses peered at her from the rearview mirror.

“You’re sure looking studious for it to be a sunny day in July,” he quipped lightly. Some old alternative band warbled through his ancient cassette deck as he said it, lending him an inadvertent lyricalness. Connie, penciling down donor qualifications in her neat handwriting, mmm’d in distracted reply.

“Oh, I get it,” he shrugged playfully, feigning hurt. “You’re busy. Alas, I’d forgotten the singleminded passions of youth so removed am I by the passage of time. Woe unto me!”

“You’re such a dork, Dad.”

Donors must have a compatible blood type with the patient.

“Oh?” He raised a bushy eyebrow in the mirror. “Is that a polysyllabic response I hear?”

Donors must be in good physical and mental health before consenting to the surgery.

A master of irony, Connie sparred back with a nice and succinct, “Yep.”

Donors must be at least eighteen-years old to qualify for surgery.

These six words were logical, reasonable, were only to be expected—and yet, ice dropped through the twelve-year old’s stomach anyway; a burning sensation pricked the corners of her eyes. She wiped at these feelings furiously, scrubbed them away with the back of her hand.

“Touché,” her dad sighed.

Monday morning found Pearl dragging her feet against the wooden deck, her overnight bag dripping carelessly from her shoulder, a world and a boy and a boy who was her world pressing against the column of her spine. Her fingers shook as they fumbled first with her keys and then with the handle of the screen door.

The hot, July sun taunted her pale neck one last time before she finally escaped into the dark house… only to be immediately swallowed by its emptiness.

God, it was desolate.

So wrong and so vile.

Gray light wept onto the wooden floors.

To her left, there was no Steven in a bed that was left unmade from the last night he’d slept in it. M.C. Bear Bear dangled halfway off the mattress, deserted and derelict without the boy who brought him to life with a smile and a laugh.

To her right, the reading nook in the corner of the room almost looked untouched, betrayed only by a slight crookedness skewing one of the cushions. Steven had knelt there, and Steven had fallen, and now Steven wouldn’t be leaving the hospital for a very long time if… if… if?

(If ever again.)

The dull thud of his fall echoed in her head.

It dropped into the pit of her stomach and ruined her.

(“I’m sorry,” Priyanka Maheswaran had said, and Priyanka Maheswaran never said sorry, "but this is all I have.”)

Pearl clutched her rumpled shirt and tried not to shatter as she limped further into the living room, where a lump on the couch caught the corner of her eye.

The lump, of course, was Peridot, wrapped in a blanket and snoring slightly. Without her glasses on, she looked particularly young—vulnerable. (Though, ferocious as she was, she’d claw someone’s eyes out before ever acquiescing to such gooey epithets.)

Pearl didn’t necessarily want to wake her, but she didn’t want to leave her on the hard couch either, so in the end, she approached quietly and skimmed her knuckles lightly against the girl’s exposed shoulder.

Emerald eyes flew open with a jolt.

A startled cat tore from under the blanket and streaked out of the room.

“Nyeh!”

“Sorry,” Pearl apologized as Peridot scrambled to find her bearings and her glasses and a little shred of dignity, too. Once her frames were adjusted on her pointed nose, she looked positively scandalized—which was fair, of course. “Just wanted to let you know I’m here. I’m going to nap for a few hours before my shift, so you’re welcome to go home for a bit or crash in a bed if you’d like.”

But scandal turned into realization turned into somberness in the other’s face.

Pearl found that she wasn’t ready to face it; her duffel bag slipped slightly on her shoulder.

“Where’s Lapis?” She tried quickly, but Peridot was quicker—intuitive and stubborn, a deadly combination.

“Swim practice. Never mind her.” Peridot waved a flippant hand. “How’s Steven?”

She knew the litany of lies by heart now.

He’s fine.

He’s stable.

He’s resting.

He’s fine.

And she tried to summon one on her lips for Peridot—she tried so damn hard to stay together—but how could she?

How could she fucking do it?

“… Pearl?”

"Peridot, I... I—" Tears leaked from her eyes.

And dripped down her beaky nose.

And splattered her sweater with their ruin.

Something was building in her stomach, in her chest, in the column of her throat.

And she tried splaying her fingers across her mouth, tried damming up the carnage, but—

"Pearl!"

—she was falling apart.

Or she'd already done so.

And this was just the explicit proof:

Pearl collapsed to her knees and wept.

vi.

Monday morning found Greg Universe on his metaphorical knees. He was desperation reconciled, a man not really sitting on a bench, so much as he was a man being supported by one. A phone was in his hand; there was an exhaustion on his shoulders.

“Ya could have called me sooner, y’know,” Greg’s cousin said on the other end of the line. There wasn’t admonition in the sentence, just resignation.

And concern.

And grief.

Andy had just met Steven a couple of months ago, but like all people who came into his son’s orbit, found it impossible not to love him, not to care. Andy had taken him up in his old plane and shown him the stars, and Steven had shown that cantankerous old coot that he didn’t have to roam the world looking for home.

Greg spidered his hand across his forehead and looked down at the concrete between his feet—the minuscule cracks in the pavement, the imperfect rubble. He burned all over; he wanted to burn the world to the ground; he wished the ground would swallow him whole; his son was sick.

“I didn’t want to face it, Andy,” he whispered, his voice strained tight, on the verge of breaking. “I’ve already lost Rose… I didn’t… I couldn’t—”

But his cousin took pity on him and quickly cut him off. “—I know, kiddo… I know. Listen, I’ll go get tested and get back to ya, okay?”

“Okay.” He closed his sagging eyes. “Thanks.”

“Tell Champ that I’m gonna bring him something cool the next time I fly down there.” Andy’s thick Jersey accent was slung with emotion (or whiskey one), all the hard consonants broken and slurred. “Ya got that, ya bald bastard?”

Greg chuckled lifelessly. “Yeah, I hear you loud and clear.”

“Good man,” and the phone clicked off just as warm hand landed quietly on his shoulder, drawing him back from the darkness. Of course, it was Garnet, who had been his companion in exhausting their contact lists and asking friends and family to get tested. Of course, it was Garnet who always knew exactly what he needed in the moment that he did.

She was steady like that, dependable.

Somehow, he found it in himself to wonder who was the same for her? Who was steady? Who was dependable? Who was the shoulder she leaned upon, if she needed to lean at all?

She’d always been so self-sufficient, so contained and in control.

Or was it Steven?

The possibility hit him suddenly, like a train.

(He thought on it; he chewed; he concluded: it was probably Steven.)

“You can’t beat yourself up, Greg,” she murmured. Sunlight glinted across her sunglasses, eradicating even the suggestion of her eyes beneath them. “We didn’t think we’d be here this fast. We thought we’d have more…”

“…time,” he finished quietly and choked a little at the end.

(“I’m sorry,” Priyanka Maheswaran had said. He then waited for the blow, and she promptly delivered. “But this is all I have.”)

There wasn’t any more time.

There was only waiting and hoping and waiting and hoping and—

They’d been waiting and hoping for eight months now.

Garnet’s fingernails dug into his shirt.

“S’not that I want to be hard on myself,” he mumbled, swiping clumsily at his snotting nose. “It’s just that I feel like I’m failing my kid, y’know? He’s in there fighting for his life, and I… I can’t do anything about it!”

The concrete mocked him with its gray, blank face; he wished it would rise up from the ground and strike him; he’d give anything if it would clock him cold; he deserved it; or maybe he didn’t; maybe everything was all screwed up, and he just didn’t really want to feel a damn thing—for hours at a time, for days.

“But, Greg,” Garnet whispered, her voice tight around the edges, her grip on him tighter. “Look at you. Look at that phone in your hand. We’ve been calling people all morning. We’ve been fighting for him for months.” She almost sounded angry, which was a rarity in and of itself for this particular woman who so masterfully boxed all of her emotions down and away. “That isn’t nothing.”

But then, suddenly, without warning, further complicating everything he knew about her, Garnet balled her free hand into a fist and knocked it hard against the bench. Her knuckles came back imprinted with the striations in the wood.

“It can’t be nothing,” she growled. “All of this can’t be for nothing. He can’t just—” But she stopped short, apparently choked, and Greg closed his eyes again.

Steven could just die, and that would be that.

It would be their entire world.

It would all be for nothing.

The sun was so damn bright today; it burned, and it burned, and it burned.

vi.

Monday found Amethyst teetering beneath a hella big flower arrangement as she stumbled into Room 11037.

God, the container was almost as huge as her head and just as full of crap—which was to say, beautiful sunflowers whose golden petals unfurled symmetrically around dark anthers. The strain of carrying it reddened her fingers as she did well to deposit it on the moveable tray Steven ordinarily used as a table when he ate.

(Not that he did eat.)

(Not really.)

The thud of the vase hitting the table jolted Steven from what had been a half-lidded gaze to a well-alert panic.

“Wha—?”

“Sorry, Steven,” she apologized, still panting from the exertion. She then leaned against the foot of his bed, wrapping one of her newly sore arms against the frame. “Didn’t mean for that to be so loud. Stupid thing was just so heavy.”

Encumbered as he was by wires, he couldn’t really move his head to take a closer look at the arrangement, but all the same, panic softened in his eyes—became appreciation and awe in a blink.

It hurt Amethyst to look at him.

(She would never look away.)

“Ohmygosh!” he croaked in one impressive breath. “These are so pretty. Who sent them?”

“Beats me,” Amethyst shrugged, quite unfortunately exacerbating the soreness in her shoulders. “Nurse said that your secret admirer wanted to stay anonymous.”

“Aw,” he grinned, “I have a secret admirer?”

“Ahahaha, somethin’ like that. Could it be the old lady?” Not that anyone was asking, but she thought it was quite admirable of herself to show restraint enough not to go with a more colorful moniker. “She’s rich enough to send something as fancy-schmancy as this.”

Steven thought on it for a moment—lifted his dark eyes towards the ceiling and hummed tentatively. The fluorescents overhead crowned his black hair with a harsh halo and illuminated the deep grooves beneath his eyes, the hollows in his face, the yellowish pallor of his skin.

Jaundice was setting in, making a fine mockery of his youth.

(God, would it hurt to just look away just once?)

“Truuuuuue,” he eventually conceded, “but I don’t know why she just wouldn’t bring them with her.”

Oh, yeah.

That was something that was happening.

It was a hella good thing Pearl was working today.

“Oh, yeah. She’s coming later, isn’t she?”

“Yup. Two o’clock.” Amethyst glanced over her shoulder at the clock on the wall—it was nearly one—and then turned back to him, a small frown puckering at her lips.

“That isn’t a long time from now.”

“And?”

“And, buddy, my pal, my friend,” Amethyst smiled bitterly, “I hope you know what you’re gonna say to her because you look like shit.”

“Rude!” He stuck his tongue out and approximated some semblance of a faux offended expression, but his brow furrowed above his bruised eyes all the same.

These past three days had done their number on Steven, and he was a far cry from the boy who bounced in the elevator ride up to Blue Diamond’s opulent penthouse suite, and he was absolutely the ghost of the kid he was eight months ago.

(He used to pounce on Amethyst’s back and demand that she fake wrestle with him.)

(He used to play on the beach for hours.)

(He’d been so vibrant and alive and present and capable, and God, how was it even fair that he wasn’t anymore?)

“Just tellin’ the truth,” Amethyst sighed. “I dunno much about her, but going off the bathrobe and smudged mascara alone, I wouldn’t guess that she’s got a strong constitution.”

Steven batted back with a worldweary sigh of his own.

“I know,” he murmured, “but, also, like, I dunno, Amethyst—I think strength for her might just be wandering around in a bathrobe, you know?” On top of his blankets, he softly skimmed his thumb across the knuckles of his other hand, careful to avoid all of the intravenous lines. “Honestly, I think… she might struggle with even that.”

The translation was clear in his face: Blue Diamond struggled to even be.

At that very moment, Amethyst was simultaneously irritated and sympathetic, understanding and unkind. She began to pick viciously at one of the loose threads in Steven’s blanket; her long bangs fell unceremoniously over her right eye.

“If that’s true, then she might break just seeing you, Steven.”

He thought on this, too, closing his eyes and settling his thumb across the ridges of his knuckles.

She hated when he did this.

Hated how still he looked.

(And yet, she still couldn’t bring herself look away.)

“Maybe”—he opened his eyes—“but maybe not… I want to help her, Amethyst. I think she needs it.”

You're the one who needs help, she wanted to say.

(He looked so sincere as he said it, so kind and warm and believing in the idea that a broken, old lady could be saved by his smile alone.)

You don’t owe a damn thing to this lady.

(He didn't owe a damn thing to all of the other people he'd helped, but he still did it anyway.)

Take care of yourself.

(What more could he do?)

Fight for yourself.

(What more could any of them do?)

For me.

(I can't lose you, buddy.)

For us.

(We'd be lost.)

But those options would fundamentally be unSteven, and it was so Steven to be so damn selfless, to extend a flower to a grieving woman in a cemetery, a hand and his stupidly big heart to what was clearly a person in need.

“Yeah,” she finally said, her voice thick with emotion, “I gotcha.”

On that tray that he used but didn’t use because he couldn’t hold down solid food anymore, a flower head leaned towards Steven, as though it was itching to say hello.

vii.

Monday found Blue Diamond standing at the threshold of the exit (and the beginning), her long hand pale against the handle that she had been gripping for hours now—weeks, months, years.

(It’d been minutes, but time swallowed her up and spit her out back again. She was here in her penthouse suite preparing to visit a boy in the hospital; she was in that fatal night from all those many years ago, screaming.)

She was coming, Steven Universe.

Her silvery hair swept down her back in its signature braid; a dress, not a bathrobe, unfolded down her curvy frame.

In just a moment or hours from now—weeks, months, maybe years—she would walk out of the door.

(It would be a few minutes; it’d be a near panic attack; it would be bravery.)

She was coming.

#flower child #yellow diamond #priyanka maheswaran #steven universe #blue diamond #connie maheswaran #pearl #garnet #amethyst #greg universe #yellow pearl #s: steven universe #mimik-u #oh boy - i'm whipped

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